


Heavy In Your Arms

by thorkiship18



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Acceptance, Bottom Sam Winchester, Caring John Winchester, Delusions, Emotionally Hurt Sam, Hurt Sam Winchester, Love Confessions, M/M, Murder, Past Rape/Non-con, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Dean Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective John Winchester, Psychopath Dean, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sam Has Issues, Scared Sam, Serial Killer Dean, Sibling Incest, Survivor Guilt, Thriller, Top Dean Winchester, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 19:30:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8590807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorkiship18/pseuds/thorkiship18
Summary: Sam Winchester is damaged, almost beyond repair. He may seem normal enough, but deep down, he suffers in silence. All because he survived his older brother's vicious killing spree exactly one year ago...





	1. I'm Fine

**Author's Note:**

> Random thought that came to me, guys! It's partially based on Scream, When A Stranger Calls, the remake of Prom Night and Halloween. I love you all! ENJOY!
> 
> UPDATE on 2/10/18: I eliminated the epilogue to the first ending, going straight into the alternate ending. Once again, enjoy!

_He runs swiftly through the woods, dodging every branch and every twig in his way. Sam has to run faster if he wants to get away. Everyone...everyone is dead. Killed. Butchered by Dean. The boy sobs as he hears his older brother yell out his name in the dark and empty forest. The things Dean did to him were just so goddamn awful! Who thinks that way of their brother?_

_Sam still feels the harsh burn in his rectum from when Dean raped him. It was right after he revealed that the murders in their town were committed by him for Sam. He killed his friends, and stabbed their father all because they were "in the way", so to speak. Dean viewed them all as threats, obstacles that needed to be removed in order to properly love Sam._

_"Sammy!" He hears behind him. "Get on back here, boy! I'm sorry I forced you, baby. I promise it won't happen again!"_

_The boy says absolutely nothing as he continues his sprint into the woods. He doesn't know where he's going, but all he knows right now is that getting away from Dean is his top priority. When he gets help, he'll come back for his dad. He's bleeding out bad; there was a lot of blood and time is running out for him. John tried to protect Sam, but Dean was quicker._

_The face of Dean's own best friend is still fresh in Sam's mind. He too was deemed a potential threat. Benny. He was innocent in all of this. They both were. Thank God that Kevin and Castiel are alive and out of town. Brady, Lucifer, Gabriel and Jo weren't so lucky. Sam hates Dean. He hates him for what he's done._

_Soon, he comes upon the lake, skidding to an abrupt stop. He swears quietly as he searches for something, for anything that he can use against his brother. The one who helped raised him. The one who told him bedtime stories when he couldn't sleep. The one who scared away the monsters under his bed._

_The one who has killed and will kill again unless Sam makes a stand._

_It's not long until he turns around, hearing the footsteps of Dean behind him. And there he is, shirt and jeans covered in blood. It could be anyone's at this point. There's a wild, deranged look in his eyes as he grins wide at the fifteen year old. The hunting knife he used in the killings is tight in his grasp, also slicked with blood._

_Sam doesn't recognize the man in front of him anymore. Who is this stranger hellbent on causing him nothing but chaos now? Perhaps he'll never know just what happened inside of his former role model's mind to get him to this point. As Dean takes a step forward on the slightly rock covered shore, Sam moves back, determined to keep his distance. He's afraid...and has every right to be._

_"Hey, Sammy..." Dean whispers happily. "Why'd you run out on me? I said I was sorry. I won't force you anymore, okay? We'll only do it when you want to. Next time, I'll make it better. Come on, Baby Boy. We gotta get going before the cops show up. Gotta get out of town."_

_Sam, disgusted, yells back at him. "What is wrong with you!? There's not gonna be a next time! You belong in jail, you sick fuck! You killed them all, and for what? Me!? God, how did I not see the signs? I hate you, Dean! I'm not going anywhere with you!"_

_The man closes the distance between them, grabbing Sam's wrist harshly. It's starting to hurt. "Now don't--don't go saying things like that, Baby. That's just...it's gonna get me angry. Don't you see that I had to do it? They would have tried to take you away from me, Sammy. I couldn't let that happen. Remember what you told me? You and me against the world. No one would ever come between us. You said that, don't you remember?" When Sam only cries with his head down, Dean snaps, shouting in the quiet. "ANSWER ME!"_

_"I remember!" The boy whimpers as he sinks down to the ground. The rocks dig into his legs, his knees. "I...I remember. I remember, Dean. Just let me go. I want to leave. Let me go..."_

_The elder Winchester brother sighs, setting his knife down on the ground as he gets down to Sam's level. He lovingly brackets the boy's face with his bloody hands, smearing the substance around his cheeks when he wipes away a tear. The teenager does not dare to shake away or give Dean any sort of indication that he is being defiant. This monster is capable of doing worse things than murder._

_"I can't do that, Baby Boy. You're all I've ever wanted in life. You and me...we're made for each other. No one else gets you like I do. I know you like the back of my own hand. I can't let you walk away. I love you. Now come on. We really need to go."_

_Seeing this situation as fucked, Sam decides that deception is the best way to go. He nods profusely, all the while grabbing a rock from the ground. Dean grabs his hand and hauls him up, gently placing a kiss on Sam's lips after taking the knife. He doesn't shy away no matter how sickening the action is. Dean doesn't just love him, he's **in love** with his little brother. He doesn't know how it got this bad, and surprisingly, he doesn't ever wanna know._

_"We can take that boat over there." The killer suggests. "Always wanted to be on the water under the moonlight with you."_

_Sam continues to hide the rock. "Can I call an ambulance for Dad?" At Dean's evil look, the boy hurriedly tries to finish his speech. "He--He's dying, and I really think that he needs--"_

_"No."_

_"But, Dean--"_

_"What did I say!? Huh!? He'd try to tears us apart. You want that? Do you wanna be away from me, Sammy!?"_

_"Stop it! You're hurting me! Let go!"_

_"He'll take you away! I'm not letting him do that, ya hear me!? I've got you now, so--"_

_He doesn't get to finish what he was saying because Sam hits Dean in the head with the rock. The man falls, as expected, and the boy quickly throws the blade into the water. He runs over to the boat as his brother feebly calls his name. He's hurt bad. Good. But as Sam tries to push the boat out towards the water, something comes over him._

_While he hates Dean for everything that he's done for the past few days, he is still his brother. All of the good he has ever done for him in their youth comes to light. He cannot just leave him there, crying out to him. No, that just won't do. The boy takes the heavy oar from the boat and goes to stand over top of Dean. His left temple is bleeding from the hit._

_"Sammy..." He groans. "Why?"_

_"You know why..."_

_"But...But I love you! That's all I've ever done! You wouldn't kill me. You wouldn't kill your older brother."_

_"You're right. I won't."_

_With one swift swing, Sam knocks Dean unconscious with the heavy object. He will not kill him, nor will he ever forgive him for what he did to their family. The young teenager drops the oar before slumping down next to the senseless form of his brother. The monster. The ruthless serial killer that has been thwarted by none other than his intended prey._

_The sun is coming up now as Sam weakly lays down next to Dean. He touches his cheek with a careful hand. Whatever happened to him? How did he become like this? Was it always in his mind, festering and building up to this? It's best if Sam never knows because right now...his entire world is shattered._

_Sam looks up into the sky; he can hear sirens wailing loudly in the distance. It may seem like it's over now, but somehow, he believes that this is only the beginning. He closes his eyes then as his brain replays every single moment he ever spent with Dean._

_His brother._

_The monster under his bed._

* * *

**One Year Later...**

"Sam, breakfast! Come on, kiddo, get up!"

Ugh. What time is it exactly? If his dad is yelling about breakfast being ready, then it's obviously morning. Sam yawns into his pillow, determined not to get out of bed on a goddamn Saturday. During summer vacation no less! Jesus, he's absolutely happy about that though. No real complaints. However...there are maybe a couple.

Like today being the anniversary of the murders in town. Dean's terrible deeds. Lawrence is still shaken up over this, and Sam doesn't blame them. What Dean did will forever haunt this place. He took away people who were important to Sam without so much as an apology. There was no remorse. He even stole away his innocence.

Thankfully, he is away with no chance of getting out. After defeating him, Sam and John were found by the police who told them everything. The police arrested Dean, and he was sent off to a facility that houses the criminally insane for his unnatural and unpredictable behavior. Since then, Sam's been getting letters every week from Dean. He doesn't read them as they go straight into the garbage.

But it didn't stop there. They made the national headlines in every major newspaper; it was a real shitshow. Reporters were everywhere they went. Paparazzi too, all trying to get a picture of "The Hero Boy" or the more popular "Vanquisher Of Modern Evil". School life wasn't any better. Most kids didn't want to talk to him just because of what Dean did. He can't blame them either.

"Sammy! Food! Now!" John hollers from downstairs.

Sam grunts as he lifts his head up. "Okay, okay! I'm coming...stubborn old bastard..."

It takes him around ten seconds to find enough motivation to get up out of the bed. When his feet touch the floor, he hisses in surprise. The floor is very fucking cold! Sam mumbles a few swears under his breath, swinging open his bedroom door in mild frustration. He is typically a morning person, but last night he got in a little late. He couldn't sleep, and Jesse was the only one who could comfort him.

Jesse Moore is Sam's boyfriend who would rather take off his shirt in public and give it to the boy than watch him freeze to death. That's how it's been for a while. They've been together since January. He works down at the coffee shop that Sam and Castiel frequented. One conversation led to another, and soon they were dating.

The young man has been apprehensive with dating him though. He doesn't trust people so easily after the incident. Anyone can have ulterior motives, so it's best to stay alert. But Jesse is different, and Sam knows this. Hell, he's so good that even John loves him! Well, love is a bit of a stretch. He tolerates Jesse because he makes Sam happy, and when Sam's happy, he forgets about the year prior.

Sam tries not to think about what would have happened if he met him when Dean was going on his rampage.

* * *

John sets down his son's plate at the table as he walks through the threshold. The boy looks tired, maybe even a little bit exhausted. The man smiles to himself. Yup, Sam snuck out last night to see that boy again. He doesn't say anything about it though. As long as Sammy's happy, he's happy, and happiness is in short supply these days. Especially today.

The patriarch of the Winchester family regrets not having seen the horrible signs of Dean's descent into madness. As a father, he feels like a failure. However, he can say one thing. He isn't sorry for locking him away up there. Dean is his son, but an abomination. It's a little tragic to say or think this now, but once again, he isn't sorry.

Dean caused John and Sam so much grief, and brought shame upon their family. No one could've predicted his behavior, and it's scary to admit. The man he used to call his son molested Sam right in front of him as he was lying in a puddle of his own blood. John grips the knob to the cabinet roughly. All over again, he's pissed off. Sometimes, he wishes he could've just wrapped his hands around Dean's neck before it got too far.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." He mutters, making his voice sound less agitated. "Made your favorite."

The boy hums in appreciation when he takes his seat. "Yeah, thanks."

John comes up with a mug from the cabinet, and goes towards the coffeemaker. "How'd you sleep?"

"Didn't get a lot of sleep, but I'm okay."

"Really? Stay up late?"

"Something like that."

"I see." John takes a seat across from Sam at the table, looking him in the eyes as he eats the food. "You were at Jesse's again."

It isn't a question.

Sam stops eating, guilty expression on his face. "Yeah...couldn't sleep."

It's completely understandable. John's still recovering from the stab wounds he received from Dean's knife, as well as the nightmares. Sam also has them from time to time. But right now, he is more worried about Jesse. As a professional bounty hunter, John has taken down men taller and heavier than himself, so it would be a cakewalk to restrain a buff nineteen year old.

Jesse's age is also a problem with John. Yes, there's still "teen" in his age, but he's legally an adult. John has been extremely protective of his son since their ordeal with Dean; he has him on a strict curfew, and always has him call when he's away from the house for more than an hour. He's already lost one son, so he can't lose another. They're all each other has here, but John's adoptive brother, Bobby, is all the way in Sioux Falls.

"You didn't have to sneak out, Sam. You could've just woken me up and talked to me."

"No, you had work today." Sam says quietly, resuming his breakfast.

The elder grimaces in his coffee cup. "You're more important than my job, Sammy. You got that?"

"Don't...call me that...not today."

Right. That's what Dean used to call him. But it  _is_ Sam's nickname. It's been with him since he was born. John hums in the affirmative then, understanding his son's wishes. He grabs the remote for the kitchen television, finger automatically hovering over the power button. Switching on the news, John turns up the volume. A young reporter appears on the TV with some extremely shocking news.

_"This is Meg Masters reporting live from the Lawrence County Sanitarium where a strange incident has happened. Last night around 2 AM, a massive blackout struck the facility. It is unknown just what caused the blackout, but reports are saying that it was the result of 'faulty wiring'. Viewers may recognize this as the building that houses Dean Winchester, a mentally unstable man that went on a horrendous killing spree last year. Many patients have tried to flee the sanatorium, but I've been told any escapees have been and will be tracked down. No word yet if Dean Winchester has managed to escape, though it is highly probable that--"_

In sudden despair, John turns off the TV. His hand shakes when he holds onto the remote. A blackout at the sanatorium. Escaped patients. Dean. No...it can't be. That place has the best security in the state. There's no way Dean could've gotten out. The reporter said that it's a possibility that he escaped, but John doesn't wish that to be the truth. No, he doesn't want that.

When he looks at Sam, his heart drops and breaks a millisecond after that. There's this blank, but fearful expression on his face. Even without saying anything, John knows what's going on in Sam's head. A small tear squeezes it's way out the boy's eye, and worms itself down his cheek. He's staring off into space with his mouth slightly ajar. He's frightened...and he has an excellent reason to be.

"Sam," John's voice cracks, prompting him to try again. "That was just...there's nothing wrong, okay? He's still in there, alright? And even if--even if he did somehow manage to get out, they'd get him back. He can't hurt you anymore." When he gets nothing in response, he tries again. "Sam, you okay?"

This seems to make the boy snap out of his daze. He blinks once, wiping away the tear. "Huh? Yeah. I'm good."

"Sam--"

"I'm fine." He insists, getting up to leave. "Just drop it. Have a safe day at work, Dad."

"Sam!" John calls after his son, but the kid ignores him, going back up to his room. He puts his head in his hands and sighs. He's frustrated and scared...and he thinks San is the same. "Goddammit."

* * *

Sam slams the door shut and locks it. He doesn't realize until he's short of breath that he's been hyperventilating this entire time. With this sudden news of Dean's escape, Sam is frightened. If he has somehow managed to find a way out of the sanatorium, then the first and only place he'll come to is here. Back home. Looking for his Sammy.

The teen keeps the latest letter in his grasp; he snatched it away when John wasn't looking. For an unknown reason, Sam doesn't throw it in the trash. He stares at it, looking at Dean's neat handwriting. It's obviously addressed to him. He can't remember the countless times he tossed each one away. Though now, he instead tears this one open, reading it silently.

**_Dear Sammy,_ **

**_I miss you, Baby Boy. More than my own words can describe I guess. I love you so much, but you probably already know that since you read all of my previous letters. I know you did. They came from me of course. Your favorite person in the world. I don't like being here to be honest. Sometimes, things are good, but then they're bad. This place isn't for me though. No, I belong at home. Anywhere you are is home to me. And you wanna know something? I have a feeling that I'm gonna be seeing you real soon. You'll see. I love you, Sammy._ **

**_Dean_ **

After reading the entirety of the letter, Sam rips it to shreds, quickly picking up the small pieces to dump in the trash can. So, it's true. Dean  _did_ find a way out, and now he's coming for him. Sam closes his eyes, willing his oncoming panic attack to go away.

It doesn't.

* * *

He arrives at the Banes' house right on time. Sam babysits for Mr. and Mrs. Banes while they go out sometimes. They are a really wealthy family that live on the edge of town in a nice, large house. He chose not to tell his father about the letter this morning. That man doesn't need all of that extra stress. It'll kill him.

The front door soon opens, and Mrs. Banes greets Sam with a warm hug. She looks and even smells extravagant as usual. Her dress is long and black, nearly touching the floor. It fits her perfect form. Her coffee colored skin is flawless. She is truly a beautiful woman; a goddess. As he steps into the house, Sam sees Mr. Banes jogging down the stairs in his expensive looking tuxedo.

His hair styled nicely, and gelled back just so. He's a handsome man with a set of pearly, white teeth that can blind the sun itself. His smooth, pale skin is the opposite of his wife's. Mr. Banes is definitely a man's man in a suit. Once he spots Sam, he grins, coming to give him a short hug. He's worked for these people for six months, and the twins love him.

"Hey, Sam." Mr. Banes shrugs on his coat, soon helping his wife into her on. "Max and Alicia have just been put to bed, so there's not much to worry about now. We'll try to be back as early as 11 though."

Sam smiles, shaking his head. "No, that's okay. Enjoy your night out. Be out as long as you want. I'll just watch TV or something. Need a distraction."

Mrs. Banes nods in understanding. She must've seen the news this morning. "Well, you know where everything is. See you later, Sam."

"Bye. Have a great night out. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

For that quip, Mr. Banes laughs. "See ya, Sam."

Soon, the parents are gone, and the house is quiet. Sam removes his coat, and hangs it up in the closet. Even though it's summer, it's a little chilly out tonight. He checks his watch; just a bit past 9. The boy goes straight for the living room, setting himself down on the couch. The Banes' house is very much lovely inside as it is out.

Mr. Banes is a doctor, one of the greatest in the area. Mrs. Banes teaches English at Sam's high school; in all honesty, she's his favorite one there. And then there's Max and Alicia, the twins. They have features that resemble both of their parents, though Sam would say that Max takes after his mother, and Alicia takes after her father. They absolutely adore Sam, going so far as to create little plays in his honor.

All in all, being in this particular house helps ease the stress of today's events. Distantly, Sam wants to envision that this is all just a dream. That he'll wake up in his bed again, and the news of the blackout will be entirely false. However, he knows that this is all real. He can't imagine what would happen if Dean appeared in front of him again. Would he faint? Would he scream? Would he viciously attack him? It is a mystery.

* * *

It's a little after 10 now; 10:24 PM to be exact. Sam unknowingly had dozed off on the couch. He sits up, looking at the TV. There's a movie on about some stupid teenagers in the woods being hunted by a masked killer. This hits too close to home for the young man, and he uncomfortably turns off the television. Everywhere he goes he is constantly reminded of last summer.

It'd be better if he could just forget about it. It'd be better if he could have just blocked out the memory altogether. He can't forget those faces...his friends' faces. They haunt his dreams, and even taunt him. Sam realizes that he's got Survivor's Guilt, and he's got it bad. Sometimes he wishes that it could've been him instead of the others.

All of a sudden, the house phone rings, sparking Sam's attention to it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More coming! ;) Only if you guys want it though.


	2. You're Not Real...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam faces a certain individual from his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since some of you enjoyed the first chapter, I decided to keep it going! Enjoy!

"Banes residence."

Sam holds the cordless house phone to his ear, moving away some loose strands of his hair. That has been a problem lately: his hair. It's gotten longer since last year. But enough about that. He listens to the person on the other line. Something is wrong here. All that hears is the person breathing. Not heavily, but just loud enough. Sam soon tries again.

"Hello? Is someone there?"

Once more, there is nothing but silent breathing. The boy dismisses this as a potential pocket dialer, and hangs up. That was weird. He sighs as he gets himself up, and into the kitchen for a snack. The Banes' always have delicious treats for the kids and sometimes for Sam. He opens the refrigerator, getting a small yogurt cup. After that, he digs around in one of the kitchen drawers for a spoon.

As he does so, the house phone rings again. Now, who could this possibly be? No one calls the Banes' house at this time of night, so who? Sam, though a little frustrated, sets down his intended snack, and goes towards the other phone on the wall. He checks the caller ID and frowns. It's an unknown caller. Strange.

"Hello?" He sighs. When no one says anything, he makes another attempt. "Is someone calling for Mr. and Mrs. Banes?"

However, Sam hears breathing on the other end again. Without saying anything else, he hangs up, placing the phone back on the wall. This is getting creepy. This had to be the same person from before, right? Sam tries not to think of the worst case scenario. It can't be. It just can't! It's just someone trying to spook him is all. A prank caller. That's all.

Picking up the yogurt and spoon, he makes his way back into the living room, determined not to think about the man breathing. Just a sick joke. Nothing more. He eventually starts to eat the snack as he still stands. The kids have been quiet. They're sleeping, but he should check on them anyways. But right as he starts going towards the stairs, his cell phone rings. It's Jesse.

"Hello?"

 _"Hey, Babe."_ The older teen says.  _"How are you tonight?"_

"I'm, uh, I'm a little freaked out at the moment."

_"What? Why? What's going on?"_

"It's just..." Sam tries to explain, taking his time to close the curtains. "Have you been calling the house here? I've been getting some weird calls in the past few minutes."

_"No, Sam. I didn't. What are they saying? Are they threatening you?"_

"No, nothing like that, but...the guy who called doesn't say anything. He just keeps...breathing. It's making me nervous."

Jesse sighs on the other end.  _"You're gonna be fine, Babe. Just a prank caller or something. Want me to come over and keep you company? I'm sure Mr. Banes wouldn't mind if I did."_

"Nah, that's okay. I'm fine. No, really, I am. I'm just freaking out about the...about the anniversary. I'll be okay. I promise...I love you."

_"I love you too. And if that fucker calls back, don't hesitate to ring me up. I'll be there in a heartbeat. That's a promise. You don't need to be afraid anymore. See ya tomorrow."_

"Bye, Jess."

There's a small ghost of a smile that touches upon Sam's lips as he finishes his phone call with Jesse. He's a tough man, just below John. Those two would do absolutely anything just to keep him safe and then some. Sam believes it when his boyfriend says that he'll be here. Maybe that's why John tolerates him as well. He's protective of the boy.

After some moments pass, the house phone sounds for the third time this evening. Sam freezes for a second; his heart skips a beat. He goes over to the ringing device, gazing at caller ID again. It's just as he suspected: Unknown. He successfully wills the butterflies in his stomach to disperse as he angrily answers the phone once more.

"Listen, asshole, you need to stop calling here or I'll call the police--!"

_"Sammy...don't do that."_

This time, Sam's breath hitches in his throat. That voice...he knows that voice. It haunts him in his sleep, and it brings him nothing but misery. His worst fear, as it seems, has come true. This is not fantasy. This is not a nightmare. This is not a vivid hallucination. This is real...and it's happening right now. Sam's legs wobble when he finds his voice again.

"D--Dean...?"

His brother chuckles quietly.  _"Yeah. It's me, Sammy. God, I missed hearing your voice. Don't you miss mine? Of course you do, I don't even know why I asked."_ As Sam tries to keep himself together, Dean speaks again.  _"What's the matter, Baby Boy? You look like a deer caught in the headlights."_ It dawns on the boy that of course, Dean is somewhere around here, watching him.  _"So pretty. Mmm, so delicious. Remember when we first made love? I was a little rough, but you took it like a champ. So proud of you."_

"Shut up..." Sam whimpers. It turns into full sobs, then shouts. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! You're not real...YOU'RE NOT REAL!"

_"Sammy, that hurts my feelings. Of course I'm real. I'm as real as those two kids laying in their beds upstairs. When I'm done with them, then we'll get out of here and start a new life together."_

"No! I won't let you touch them!"

Sam swiftly drops the call and sprints up the stairs two at a time. The only thing going through his mind is the safety of those kids. He has to get them out now! When he reaches the final step, he calls out to the children, yelling their names down the hall. Soon, the little boy and girl come out of their room, rubbing at their eyes. They were definitely sleeping, but know isn't the time for that. They're all in danger.

He runs over to them while simultaneously dialing 911. The female operator tries to understand Sam, but he is talking way too fast. This alarms the kids who start panicking as well. Max attempts to ask what's wrong, though Sam just grabs his hand and takes them downstairs as he tells the operator the address. He also tells her that there's a killer in the house.

As he had anticipated, the Banes' children shriek in terror. That was the wrong thing to say. Sam hangs up once they reach the main floor of the house. The front door opens, and in steps the devil himself. Dean has never looked greater; that's quite a shock to be honest. He's buffed up some, and has grown a short beard. His hair is exactly the same length though. Dean shuts the door behind him as he grins.

"Oh, Sammy...you grew up. You look so good. Your hair has grown some too." As his eyes flick to the kids, he shows his knife. "Where are you all going? I just wanna play a little game. It's called 'Hide and Seek'. You hide and I'll try to find you. But if I find you, you lose. Sounds like fun, right?"

Sam puts himself in front of the children in defense. "No, Dean. Stop. Just stop..."

"You can play too, Sam. But if I find them first, and they lose, then you come with me."

"Like Hell I will!" The boy snarls. "You'll never have me, and you'll never touch them!"

With this, Sam takes Max and Alicia's hands, and takes off in the other direction. Behind him, he can hear Dean counting down from fifty. He's lost his mind for sure! But honestly, he lost his mind a long time ago when he deemed it okay to murder people and rape his little brother. No, his mind is completely gone.

Sam runs to the backdoor, swinging open the door. When he does, he sees the mutilated body of the gardener, Gordon, hanging from the backyard tree. His insides are, unfortunately, on the outside...and it seems that he was hung by the neck by his intestines. Instinctively, Sam and the kids scream. He shuts the backdoor in a hurry; Dean's countdown is in the 20's.

With little options, Sam takes them to the basement, almost tripping down the stairs. There must be some way out of this house. He hasn't even explored this section before. As he searches, he hears Dean exclaim "Ready or not, here I come!" This scares the two children to no end. As their babysitter, it's Sam's job to watch after them. To protect them.

He can do now what he failed to do for his friends and Benny. He's not letting these innocent kids die tonight. Sam doesn't bother to turn on the lights down here. Less visibility means that they'll live longer to find a place to hide. It'll also limit Dean's sight as well. It isn't long until the trio hear the thud of the man's boots as he descends the stairs. Sam finds a large stack of boxes to get behind, directing the children there first.

"This isn't very fun, you know." Dean muses. "I kinda heard you guys come down here. Say, did you see what I did to that guy out there, Sammy? Yeah, I know it wasn't pretty, but it was necessary  He started talking about calling the police, and I just couldn't let him do that, ya know? But I'm just so glad I'm out. Aren't you glad? We can finally pick up where we left off! I'm getting hard just thinking about it."

Max and Alicia clasp their hands over their mouths in fear of getting caught. Sam silently reassures them in the darkness. He won't let any harm come to them. The police are already on their way. It won't be long now. But he doesn't want to wait. These kids' lives are in serious danger. Sam spots a small window near the corner of the basement. Max and Alicia can definitely fit through there, yet it looks like a tight squeeze for him.

"Sammy! I know you're in here...and I know those kids are in here too. They're important to you, aren't they? Why? I wanna be the only one important to you. That's why they have to go. No competition means you all to myself."

Delusional! Simply delusional! Sam fears for everyone now, not just these kids, but he has to have courage if he wants them to live. He sneaks with the children over to the window, quietly helping Max up to open it. Once he does, the little boy slips through effortlessly. Without wasting time, Sam boosts Alicia up next. Her brother helps her through the window when she has difficulty.

After seeing that the both of them are safe on the other side, Sam lifts himself up, trying to get through the window. However, his foot slips, and he accidentally kicks over an object. This alerts Dean. Sam scrambles to collect himself, but it's in vain. Dean finds him, and grabs at his ankle. The kids hold onto his hands, but the man is obviously stronger than they are; Sam is pulled back into the basement, onto the floor. The killer stands over top of him.

"Leaving so soon?" Dean sounds hurt. "That's cheating, Sammy. And guess what? You lost. Looks like you're coming with me."

Sam crawls backwards, horrified. "No...no..."

"I want us to have a little reunion first." He palms at his crotch. "I never stopped thinking about how tight you are inside. You really are the best I ever had. Come 'ere, Sammy. Let's make love again."

It happens all too quickly for Sam's liking. Dean drops down to him, tentatively licking up and down the boy's neck, feeling his sides. Sam gasps and groans under his brother's weight. It's happening again! After all this time, it's happening all over again! Flashbacks of the pain and embarrassment of the first time assault his mind.

Using this as motivation to fight back, Sam uses his knee to hit Dean in his testicles. The hit has the desired effect, and the killer doubles over in pain. Sam resolves himself to get away from him by going up the stairs. However, as he does, Dean grabs his ankle again, tripping him. He recovered quicker than he had anticipated. The man looks pissed, angry even.

"Stop fighting me and accept me!"

Sam successfully kicks Dean in his face, savoring his small victory. He watches as he falls backward back down into the basement. The boy finally reaches the top, and locks the door leading down there. Sam pants heavily as he runs towards the front door. Once he gets there and opens it, he runs into a solid mass; a person. Thinking it's Dean, Sam pounds his fists on the person's chest, desperate for escape.

However, it's soon revealed that it is none other that a police officer. The cop tries his best to console the boy. All that runs through Sam's mind is how close he could've been to death. He listens, and hears the soft cries of Max and Alicia. They also comfort him, asking if he's alright.

He's anything but.

* * *

Sam sits in the back of the ambulance with a blanket around him. The examiners are doing as their job suggests, finding no physical scars or abrasions on his body. Of course not. It's all upstairs, in his brain. That's where the real scars are. They never truly healed, and now, they've been torn open all over again.

Looking slightly to the left, he sees Mr. and Mrs. Banes running up the driveway to their children. The kids cry in their parents arms. It's likely that they'll be traumatized by this for the rest of their lives. He's in the same boat as them, though it's more severe. What they witnessed was on the tip of the iceberg that is Dean. They haven't even seen a fraction of what he's capable of.

As the examiners finish their job, John drives up in his '67 Chevy Impala. It was originally given to Dean on his Eighteenth birthday, but it has since been removed from his care after being sent away. But now he's back, and he's demanding that Sam come with him. John turns off the engine, and sprints up to grab his son for a bone crushing embrace. Sam snaps out of his daze when he notices that John is crying.

"Thank God you're okay..." He whispers. "I'm so sorry, Sam. Everything's gonna be okay. We'll be okay. We'll be alright."

Soon enough, the children's parents come up to Sam and John with the kids. Mrs. Banes hugs the boy tight after John moves out of the way. "Thank you. Thank you so much. You saved their lives, and we'll forever be grateful to you."

"Sam, we owe you everything that we have." Mr. Banes says holding his family. "You're a brave kid. Thank you."

The teenager just nods in acknowledgement, giving tight lipped smiles to each and everyone of them. They soon leave him and his father alone with the police officer who Sam ran into not too long ago. He walks up to the pair with a remorseful look in his eyes. The boy already knows the bad news that's about to come out of his mouth. 

"Hi, I'm Officer Jim Murphy." He briefly shakes John's hand before addressing Sam. "Sam, we looked everywhere in that house, top to bottom, and we came up with nothing. Dean isn't in there."

"I saw him. He was in there."

John sighs. "Sammy, maybe...maybe it was just--"

"I saw him!" Sam looks directly in his father's eyes, wearing his his heart out on his sleeve; tears and all. "He chased me and the kids, and he--he--he grabbed me and he...he touched me. He was there, and he isn't going to stop until he gets what he wants: Me. Dean's back, Dad. Dean's back..."

John swallows a lump in his throat, making no effort to hide it. Sam looks down at his hands in his lap as his father and Officer Murphy talk about protection detail or whatever. He's not listening anymore. The events of tonight replay on an endless loop in his mind. He's afraid of the future, but more importantly, he's afraid for those close to him. John. Jesse. Kevin. Castiel. All of them are in danger of being attacked now.

All of this could've been avoided if he had just killed Dean...

* * *

He knows that it's past midnight without even checking the time on his phone. It's just instinct. Sam has been sitting on his bed since coming home hours ago. John's downstairs asleep, determined to catch Dean if he attempts to sneak into the house, but he himself just sits here. Sam doesn't even know if he has blinked in hours. He keeps staring at the blank wall that used to house pictures of him and Dean.

There's a particular memory of them that he holds dear. It was Christmas day in their home. John was gone all night becauseof his job, but he put Dean in charge of everything. They were kids; Sam was eight and Dean was twelve. The boy had saved up his birthday money for a present for their dad, but ended up spending most of it. He couldn't get Dean anything as a result.

However, when John didn't come back, Sam gave his gift over to Dean. It was a weird necklace that he saw in a store downtown. It was a strange tribal amulet attached to a black cord. Dean absolutely loved it, and put it on immediately afterwards. That was when Sam made that promise. The promise that Dean still holds onto to this very day.

_"You and me, De. Us against the world!"_

_"You promise?"_

_"Yeah, I promise! No one will ever tear us apart. We'll be together forever!"_

_"Then it's settled. Us against the world, Sammy. Us against the world..."_

Sam's startled by a noise by his window. When he does to investigate, he discovers that it's only Jesse trying to gain access inside. He lightly taps on the glass, small, sad smile in place. Sam checks the door behind him, debating himself on what to do. Against his better judgment, he decides to let Jesse inside. The older teenager ungracefully drops to the floor, making way too much noise. He chuckles, but Sam knows what is about to happen.

"Sam, you okay?" He hears John call. His voice is getting closer. "What's going on in there?"

The boy whispers for his boyfriend to hide while he goes to the door. As he gets there, John opens it, frown on his face. "Sammy, you okay in here?"

"Can you knock?" Sam chides.

"I heard a noise in here, so I came to check it out." John looks around in the room, seemingly finding nothing. "Just making sure that you're okay."

"Dad, I'm fine, alright? I just dropped a couple of books. It's okay. Nothing major."

"Alright, alright. Just...just take it easy okay? And don't worry. The police department is working hard on finding Dean. It's their top priority. He won't hurt you--"

"Yeah, well he got pretty fucking close tonight, so sorry if I don't share your enthusiasm." Sam snaps. He watches his father flinch, and he just feels awful. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm just tired. I'm gonna get some sleep."

The Winchester man nods. "Okay.. okay. Well, get plenty of it. Tomorrow, you're gonna have a few detectives near you wherever you go until Dean is found. I'm joining the search too. I love you, Sam. He won't take you."

John takes his leave right after, shutting the door. Sam takes the initiative to lock it seeing as how his boyfriend is here without permission. Soon, Jesse comes out of his hiding space, (underneath of the bed) and greets the boy with a warm and tight hug. Sam melts into his arms, grateful that he's here.

"What are doing here?" He mumbles in his shoulder.

"I came to see you." Jesse answers, kissing Sam on the lips. "Obviously. You weren't answering my calls. I saw the news, Sam. I'm so glad you got out when you could."

"Can you...can you stay here tonight? I just don't wanna be alone."

"Sure. You'll never be alone when you have me."

* * *

This...this is...THIS IS WRONG! ALL WRONG!

Who is that punk, and why is he kissing Sammy like that!? Who the fuck does he think he is!? Dean nearly hops out of the bushes at the sight, but chooses not to. No, he has to bide his time, and wait for the perfect opportunity. If John taught them anything it's that you pounce on your target when they're most vulnerable.

So, Dean walks away from his former home towards the path that will lead him to his temporary one. He only had to kill the previous tenants to live there. Just for a while. He has some scores to settle, unfinished business. He's gonna study those around his Baby Boy, and crush their pathetic, little lives until there's only Sammy left. That's when they'll go. That's when their new life will begin.

Dean grins in the darkness. If someone were around, they'd liken his features to a ferocious wolf.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg....nooooooooo (YES! >:D) Stay tuned!


	3. You're A Survivor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam talks to his psychiatrist about his life so far, and hangs out with his friends; Dean plots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The anticipated third chapter!!! >:)

John hates sleeping on the couch to be honest. It offers zero support for his back, and is just a real pain to sleep on. Literally. He only did it for Sammy's safety. With Dean being back in town, he has to up his "mother hen" game. Though John initially had doubts to Sam's story, he's a definite believer now. There was a body in the Banes' backyard, but that's not the only thing.

When he contacted the sanatorium, they informed him that Dean has in fact escaped, and haven't been able to locate him. His worst fear has come true, and now he's gotta use all of his strength to protect his only son. Dean is no family to him anymore. Mary, God rest her soul, would disapprove of him thinking this, but at the same time, she'd disapprove of Dean killing people and raping Sam!

The man stretches out his joints as he yawns. The sun's out today, and isn't letting up. When John hears a small thump come from Sam's bedroom, he jumps into a sitting position on the couch. That wasn't just books falling this time. If anything, that sounded like someone falling out of bed...and he's pretty damn sure that that wasn't Sammy's small form.

* * *

"Dammit, that sucked." Jesse groans on the carpet. He's in his boxers; they didn't do anything, never have. "What is it with me and falling on your floor?"

Sam, from where he's lain on the bed, rolls his eyes in mild frustration. "I dunno. Just keep it down, okay? I don't want my dad knowing you're up here. He'd probably ban me from seeing you."

Jesse gives the boy a small, cocky grin. "He'd have to be crazy to keep us apart."

Not that it really matters now, but Sam doesn't immediately tell Jesse that his comment sets him on edge. Dean has said something incredibly similar in the past, and just thinking back on it is enough to drive the kid insane. He's terrified right now because at any moment, Dean can waltz in here and kill them, dragging Sam away to God knows where to..."make love".

It's sickening. What happened to Dean that made him like this? He wasn't abused. He wasn't neglected. He didn't have a bad upbringing, so what the fuck compelled him to do all of those horrible acts? It's an enigma for sure. Maybe he always had psychopathic/homicidal tendencies. Maybe he just lost his mind one day. All that's truly known is that he is unstoppable when he wants something. Unfortunately, Sam's that something.

If only things were different. If he could turn back the clock, Sam would have tried to get to know Dean a little more than he already did. If he could've just recognized his behavior earlier, he possibly could've gotten the help he needed before it was too late. Sam loved Dean with all of his heart, and there was once a time where he'd put his brother above all else. Not now though, and not ever.

He wonders if he still carries the amulet around his neck. Sam didn't see it last night, though he's got a suspicion that it was tucked securely under his shirt so as to not get in the way of his "activities". That necklace is a powerful symbol of the bond they shared together once upon a time.

Last night was the second scariest moment in his entire life. However, the scariest thing was when he looked at Dean for the first time in a year. He's changed, looking surprisingly good. He's definitely been working out in that sanatorium. Sam pushes these images way down. It isn't healthy to have incestuous thoughts; he doesn't want to be on the same level as Dean, though he can't deny that he's absolutely hot.

"Yeah, and he'd be even crazier if he finds out you're here!" Sam hisses. Just as he lays back down, John calls out to him, rattling the doorknob. "See? I fucking told you!"

Once more, Jesse rolls under the bed, grumbling incoherently. He's not happy about hiding again, but it's necessary if he doesn't wanna be thrown out in his underwear. Sam rushes to grab the rest of his boyfriend's clothes, making sure that nothing of his is in view. He tells John that he's coming as he shoves the clothes under the bed. When that's done, he unlocks the door, staring into his father's worried yet amused eyes.

"What was up with that? You don't normally lock your door." John frowns, though there's a small grin just waiting to bloom. What the hell?

Sam crosses his arms. "Well, today and last night made me realize just how good doors would be if they stayed locked. What's up? Need something?"

"Yeah--no, not really. Maybe. Shit, Sammy, I don't know. I think you need to talk to Missouri today. It's been a while. I'm sure she'd miss you."

The boy's jaw twitches slightly at the mention of his psychiatrist. "It's been exactly two months. I'll go see her. And my name is Sam...Sammy died a year ago with his friends."

These words seem to have a strange effect on John. He closes the distance between them, hugging his son tightly. "You'll always be Sammy. Dean took too much away from you, but he'll never get that. Never. He may have been the one who coined it, but he doesn't control it, just like how he can't control you."

"Thanks, Dad...thanks."

"Don't mention it. Just get ready soon." As John separates from his son, he smiles towards the bed. "Good morning, Jesse. Come downstairs and have a talk with me."

Oh shit. He knew all along!? Sam glances at his father with a bashful expression. The man only grins as he walks back downstairs. He's gotta stop underestimating him! Soon, Jesse worms his way out from under the bed again. He takes his clothes from where Sam had hidden them; quickly shucking on his jeans. After putting on his shirt, his straight, blonde hair becomes unruly.

That's one thing about Jesse that Sam adores. It's his hair. Another thing is his smile. The last two would be his personality and his body. By God does this guy have a great body. How do you work at a café, but have the body of a European male model? It's truly a mystery. Whatever he does, it works, and Sam's not gonna complain about any of it.

"He's a smart guy." Jesse huffs, straightening his hair. "I hope I come out of this house alive." This makes Sam a little scared. Sensing his distress, the blonde teen kisses him. "Bad joke, I know. I'm sorry."

"It's...fine. It's fine. Really. I'm gonna take a shower. You go have a heart to heart with him."

"I love you, Sam Winchester. You and all of your scars. Never forget that. No psychopath is gonna scare me away from you."

The brunette watches with watering eyes as the one he loves exits the room. He's elated that he met someone such as Jesse, though he knows that he doesn't deserve him. Why would he want someone with severe issues? Nightmares, occasionally spacing out and zero sex. Yes, they've not had sex. Ever. Sam's been terrified of it ever since...ever since Dean.

He's ruined his life in more ways than one. Sam thinks that he can never have the euphoric feeling of an orgasm, because he'd only be thinking of his first ever sexual experience. He has no idea how he managed to run away from the house with that painful burn in his anus. When he was taken to the hospital, the doctors said that he was torn, most likely because of the lack of preparation.

Rage bubbles up inside of Sam. He doesn't throw anything. He doesn't hit any furniture. He only closes his eyes, and balls up his fists. A hot shower sounds great right about now.

Yeah.

* * *

"So, you snuck into my house? I'm not gonna lie, that's pretty impressive."

Jesse is visibly nervous as John drinks his coffee at the table. "I.. Yeah, well, it wasn't hard. I--I mean, it was, but it wasn't. I had to check up on Sam."

"Oh, I bet." John quirks an eyebrow up at his son's boyfriend. "Did you and Sam have sex last night?"

"Wha-!? No! God, no! I would never--I mean I would! But--But only if he wanted to. We never had sex before, I swear. I'd love to, but I respect him and what he wants. I love your son, and having sex with him is the last thing on my mind. But it  _is_ on my mind sometimes. I'm just gonna shut up."

The man chuckles in response. "That'd be best for now. Jesse, I appreciate what you do for my son. You make him feel safe in times that I can't, and you've accepted him despite all of his baggage...but that doesn't mean I have to like you. You know about Dean, about what he did despite not being from here. I think you should stay away from Sam, at least until Dean is found."

"I...I can't do that, Mr. Winchester."

"Excuse me?"

"I said what I said." The teenager's gaze turns determined. "You think I don't know what being around him means right now? I know that I'm a target, but so are you and everyone else. I can protect him. I can help keep him safe. Not many people in my position would be willing to do the same. They'd run while they had the chance, but not me. I'm sticking with him."

Surprisingly, John has reached a new level of respect for Jesse. His determination to keep Sam away from Dean is incredible. He honestly has what it takes. And, against his better judgment, John would strongly consider letting Jesse marry his son, but that's only if they're still together after this...or even if Jesse's still alive.

John has called off work for the next few weeks until Dean has been caught. He himself won't rest until he's locked up again, or more importantly, dead. He should've taken Sam away from him, and ran far away to Sioux Falls. Every time he remembers Dean, he first thinks of the four year old that would sneak into his baby brother's nursery at night just to see him.

But then his thoughts change, twisting themselves into the newest, harsh reality that is his life. Dean stabbed him twice, both in vital areas. And after that, he violated his younger brother. Looking back on it now, John remembers the looks Dean gave Sam when he was fourteen. The slow, sensual glances. The longer than normal touches. The lingering forehead kisses. That's where it started. That's where it started, and John feels foolish.

Soon, Sam graces them with his presence. His hair is just a bit damp from the shower, but he's dressed and ready to go. The boy's eyes display something like misery. John understands. He's miserable too. Jesse turns around, standing up to greet his boyfriend. They obviously love each other. It reminds John of how he'd want to spend every waking moment with Mary. She unfortunately died when Sam was only six months old.

"When are we leaving?" Sam asks.

"Right now." The elder grunts as he stands up. "We'll get something to eat when we come back."

Jesse checks the time, kissing Sam on the top of his head. "Gotta get ready for work. I'll text you later, okay?"

"Yeah...yeah okay."

All three of them begin walking towards the front door. That's when John realizes that something isn't right about this. He opens the front door first. When he does this, they're bombarded by reporters and paparazzi. Fucking great! He should've seen this shit coming! What happened last night was plastered all over the goddamn news. Just perfect. John holds Sam close as he pushes past multiple people trying to get information. Cameras flash in their faces.

"Sam! Sam! Is it true that Dean's back?"

"Do you feel threatened?"

"Do you think he's coming back to finish what he started?"

"Mr. Winchester, what is the police department doing about protecting Sam?"

"You there, are you a friend of Sam's? Do you think Dean will come after you next?"

"Get the fuck away from us!" John snaps, shouting at the people surrounding his house. "Don't you think he's had enough fucking problems already!? Leave us alone!"

Following his outburst, John leads his son out towards the car. The reporters cease with their endless questions, but they still look on. He opens the car door for Sam, watching painfully as the boy begins to cry. It's shit like this that makes John wonder why they didn't move after the first murders took place. Oh, he knows why.

He didn't want to separate Sam from his remaining friends, and just pulling him out of the only high school he ever knew was out of the question. Once he's graduated (and once Dean is locked away once again), then he can move away. To a university of course. John wants the best for his child, just like every other parent out there. It's too late for Dean. It's always been too late for him. A lost cause.

Soon enough, John rushes to the driver's seat. He turns the key, starting the ignition. He sees Jesse still being harassed by the reporters as he makes his way to his own car. What he said at the table was true. Anyone close to Sam is a target for Dean's wrath, including him. Well, John says bring it on. He also has a fucking score to settle with his demon spawn.

And he'll make sure that Dean can't hurt Sam ever again.

* * *

They didn't speak much on the ride to Missouri's. There wasn't much to talk about honestly.

"Hey, Sam. How you doin?"

"Okay, I guess. Just waiting for Dean to kill you and everyone else I love."

That's what he's trying to avoid. Sam's aware that he's a beacon for trouble, yet he's very determined to make things work out. He's scared for the future. But now, he and John are standing outside of a family friend's house who just so happens to be a great psychiatrist. She's literally one of the best people that Sam knows; almost like an actual mother to him.

Missouri Moseley is the exact opposite of what you'd expect from a professional psychiatrist. She's attentive, outgoing, stern but gentle. Sam and Dean were first introduced to her at an early age, before he could even walk. Though he suspects that she and John may have had multiple flings, he says nothing of the matter to either of them...but he knows. It's not rocket science.

After two knocks to the door, the dark skinned woman shows herself. Has she gotten smaller, or has Sam gotten taller? Two months have certainly gone by indeed. Once she sees Sam, she envelopes him into her arms, not saying a single thing. After this, she does the same to John, only longer. This only fuels Sam's suspicions.

"Come on in, don't just stand there dumbfounded." The woman says, leading them inside.

It smells just as it looks: like home. Different fragrances fill the air, some more lovely than others. As is customary, John and Sam remove their shoes. Missouri is very particular about tracking in things on her floors. There aren't any pictures of her or her relatives up on the walls, just paintings. It's not a problem, but it's unusual. It's always been this way.

"So," She starts with her hands on her hips. "I'm assuming that you're here because of your episode with Dean, right?"

"Y--Yeah..." Sam mumbles quietly.

"Okay then. John, you wait in the living room while I talk to Sam. You know the drill, make yourself at home. There's pie in the refrigerator if you're hungry."

John perks up at the sound of his favorite type of pastry. "You had me at pie. See ya soon."

As he say this, he veers off into the kitchen where the food is. It's funny actually. Sam now knows where his older brother gets his lust for pie from. The memories of their childhood invade his head without permission. He would do anything and absolutely everything to be close to Sam. In a strange way, it feels like Dean was the one looking up to him, and not the other way around. He'd follow Sam wherever he went like a lost puppy.

Dean was Sam's everything. He never thought in a million years that he could or would do anything like he did to him and his friends. Some people are capable of doing terrible things in the name of "love" or something like it. Dean committed his acts in love's name; even forcing Sam to submit while he tore his clothes from him. That's not love. It's delusion.

Missouri soon directs Sam to the den opposite of the living room. It acts as her office of sorts. He isn't her sole client, and he certainly isn't going to be her last. Some of the people in town revere her, seeing Missouri as a godsend. However, most view her as an outcast, a strange, old woman with no connection to the outside world. Those people can kindly go fuck themselves.

Once inside the den, Sam sits on the couch reserved for patients. Missouri takes a seat in her chair, no notepad, no glasses. Just her and her honesty. "Alright. First thing's first: It's so glad to see you, Sam. I missed you."

"It's good seeing you too." The boy manages to smile slightly. "I wish we could've met up under different circumstances."

"Likewise. So, let's get started. Are you okay? I know it's a stupid question after what happened last night, but I have to ask."

Sighing shakily, Sam calms his nerves. "Honestly? I'm not okay, Missouri. I thought...yesterday, when I woke up, I knew without a doubt that Dean was locked away. And I kinda took solace in that. But then he actually came to me...I saw his face, and he.. spoke to me. Touched me like he did that night."

"You must feel awful."

"I do!" Sam feels tears running down his cheeks. When did he start crying? "I feel disgusting! I used to love that man, but he's not a man anymore  I keep thinking about when I had him on the ground, and I wonder why I didn't continue beating the shit out of him. He killed people I cared about, and tried to kill our father. Death would've been great for him. Even Hell would've welcomed Dean with open arms."

The woman's pokerface falls, showing actual emotion. "You know that you couldn't have done that. Don't say that, Sam. Despite everything, Dean was, and still is, your brother."

"I should've killed him..." Sam whispers, mostly to himself. He looks to Missouri, watery eyes and all. "I should've killed him. Now I'm in danger. Everyone's in danger."

"You'll overcome this, Samuel, and do you wanna know why? It's because you're a survivor. You beat him a year ago, and you'll beat him again. Trust me. You're the strongest person I know. You sometimes feel like it should have been you who died, but think if the many more that would have been killed in Dean's despair. You have a tremendous amount of survivor's guilt, but you can use that and turn it into something else. You're strong, Sam. So strong..."

It's possible. What Missouri is saying could be in fact true. Is he a survivor? Is he strong like she says he is? Sam wants to believe. He saved the twins from certain death, and warded off his homicidal older brother. Perhaps she's right. Maybe he'll overcome this. But let's be realistic here.

It's only a matter of time before Dean kills again.

* * *

After his session with Missouri, Sam asked his dad if it was alright to visit Kevin and Castiel at Kevin's house. It took some intense prodding, but he finally managed to get John to say yes so long as he calls every hour on the hour, and gets Castiel to pick him up. The detectives who are supposed to watch over him seat themselves outside in their car. Detectives Mulder and Scully. That's what Sam secretly refers to them as.

"So, where'd the Banes' go?" Kevin asks, sipping on some soda.

Sam eats some popcorn out of the bowl in his lap. "They went on a vacation. Help the twins get last night from their minds. Good. The farther away from me they are, the better. I'm the Angel of Death, apparently."

"No, you're not." Cas says with a sorrowful gaze. "We're still here."

"You two were lucky because you guys left the state last year...but it still doesn't excuse you from Dean's wrath. I don'tknow what I'd do without you guys and Jesse...I just don't have it in me to stay away from him, no matter how much danger he could be in..."

"Cheer up, Sam." Kevin puts his arm around Sam's shoulders, grinning. "Jesse's a tank. He's gonna be fine. Just like us. We'll be okay."

Yeah. Right.

Sam looks at him is phone. It's 7:33 PM. Not only that, but he's got missed calls from John. "Shit. I gotta go. Cas, can you drive me home? Dad's gonna be pissed."

"Sure." Castiel glances at Kevin who pouts. "I'll be back to finish the movie. Don't eat all the popcorn."

The short teenager grasps the bowl with a smug look. "Hurry back then. See ya later, Sam. Tell your dad I said wassup."

The boy laughs as he grabs his hoodie. "Will do. Bye."

* * *

Dean watches in the shadows as Sam gets into the car with Castiel. Oh, Castiel. There was one time when he made that kid blow him. But the whole time he was thinking of his Sammy. Sammy's delicious mouth on his cock. Shit, now isn't the time to getting erections. The detectives start up their car as Castiel does the same. They then follow behind.

He knows what's going on. They have some rediculous notion that he's here to harm him. No! Of course not. He's only here to get rid of the stragglers, and collect what's his. Dean takes the untraceable phone out of his pocket, followed by the syringe filled with succinylcholine. You learn a lot about dangerous substances in a mental hospital. He starts dialing as he walks up to the house. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Shit, Dean! Not Kevin!! Noooo! (Yessss!)


	4. It Should Be You In There!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's friends are threatened, resulting in a devastating blow to his already fractured mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's death ahead. I'm so sorry... (Not. >:D)

It's only been a couple of minutes, but Kevin is so super bored. They all were supposed to be watching action movies, but Sam had to go and ruin it. Not hate or anything against him. Kevin actually feels for him. It would normally take a shit ton of therapy to get over something like that, but then again, Sam's still not over it, and his best friend thinks that he never truly will.

Yet he's a strong individual. He escaped Dean twice, while most people failed to stand against him the first time. Kevin, however, is prepared just in case Dean ends up coming for him as well. His mother has a .22 snub nose revolver in her bedside drawer. Just in case.

Kevin was always intimidated by Dean, but now he's actually afraid of him. What he did to Gabriel and Lucifer was just...awful. Their faces were mutilated beyond recognition. Dean did that to those brothers with his bare hands; Castiel misses his brothers. Michael, the eldest, tried keeping him away from Sam, but that hasn't worked out in his favor.

After some time has passed, Kevin's house phone rings, disturbing the movie he's been watching. Sighing, he goes over to the stand where the phone's ringing. The caller ID says that it's an unknown person. Maybe a wrong number. He wants to dismiss it, but he's also extremely curious about who this could be. So, he picks it up.

"Hello?"

The person on the other line clears his throat, then speaks in a polite tone.  _"Hello."_

"Er...Hi? Who is this?"

_"Who's this?"_

"I asked you first."

_"I asked you second."_

Kevin laughs at this, twirling the phone cord with his finger. "Okay, Mr. Smartass, who's this for real?"

_"Hm...let's just say a friend of a friend."_

"Friend of a friend, huh? Did Daniel set this up? That little fucker."

_"Nope. Not Daniel."_

"Oh wait, let me guess. Castiel, right? Calling me up to prank me or something? Really had me going for a second. Hurry back, okay? I didn't pause the movie, and I gotta make more popcorn "

_"I believe that the mutual friend we share is none other than Sam Winchester."_

Alarms sound off in Kevin's head. His smile fades quickly, and is replaced with a grim expression. "Oh. So--So who are you...exactly? Sam and I don't share any other friends besides Cas. I think...I have to go--"

_"If you hang up on me, you'll die just like your friends."_

The man's voice turns deep, and gravelly. That's when Kevin realizes who he's been talking to. It's Dean. His palms become sweaty, prompting him to feebly wipe them on his shirt. He's petrified on the spot. He's scared. However, Kevin remembers the gun upstairs. If Dean wants to kill him, he'll have to fucking work for it.

"Fuck you, you piece of shit!" He yells into the phone.

He's rewarded with Dean's deep and deadly chuckle. " _Have it your way...Tran."_

The line goes dead when Dean finishes. And after that, the power goes out. It's not dark enough to be lost, but Kevin knows where he's going. It's his house after all. Soon, he hears noises cascading around the entire house at once. This is bad. He takes a flashlight out of the drawer on the stand. If not for light, then as a temporary weapon.

Eventually, after gaining enough courage, Kevin makes his way towards the stairs. Dean intends on killing him tonight. One of them will most likely fall...and he is determined to live. He goes up the steps one at a time, careful not to jostle any floorboards. It'd be best if his would-be killer wasn't alerted by his presence.

Upon reaching the second floor without making any sound, Kevin slinks down the hall to his mother's bedroom. He can't believe that this is actually happening, and that Dean's nearby. Rationally, he believes that he should notify the police about this on his cell phone, but why wait to get slaughtered when he can just shoot the bastard and get the glory himself?

Finally, Kevin gets into the bedroom. He sets down the flashlight, rummaging through the drawer for the gun. When he finds it, he scoffs in the darkness. Of course it's not loaded. The bullets themselves are also in there. Frustrated, Kevin takes the entire drawer, and dumps the contents on the bed.

"Found you. You're it."

Before he can react to the voice behind him, Kevin feels a small prick on the side of his neck.

* * *

Just as Dean had predicted, the effects of the drug was instantaneous. He's quite pleased with himself actually. Watching this spineless bastard try and fail to have his body obey him. Dean takes the flashlight and turns it on as Kevin falls to the floor, grunting. The blonde puts the light under his face, still grinning. This is kinda fun. A little entertaining, but he doesn't have much time.

"You hung up on me, Kev." He berates, flashing the light in his face. "I told you not to, and you called me a piece of shit. Not very nice."

Kevin struggles to move, but soon finds that he can't, and it's becoming impossible for him to talk. "You...can go...to Hell..."

"Might've been there in a previous life. Guess it didn't agree with me. Now, listen very closely because we don't have a lot of time. Yes,  _we_. I have somewhere to be, and you have to die. I injected you with a lethal dose of succinylcholine. It stops all the muscles in your body, even making it forgot how to breathe. Within minutes, you'll be dead."

The absolute look of anguish on Kevin's face only makes Dean more smug...but then he gets angry.

"I sat in that fucking hellhole for an entire year. No real contact to the human world. It was terrible. And yet, the only thing that helped me to survive...was thoughts of Sam. You people would paint me as this monster who blindly killed for sport. I had my reasons. I love Sam, don't you understand that? I'd do anything for him. I'd kill myself if he wanted me to..." Dean smiles as he realizes that Kevin's breathing is slowing. "But I know that he doesn't want that. He may be mad at me now, but he'll come around. He will see that this is all for him--for us! You'll see. Well, maybe not."

Within a few more seconds, the kid dies. At least it was painless. Yeah, no it wasn't. He was conscious through it all, felt every single thing up until the moment he stopped breathing. Having your body work against you must feel awful, but Dean knows next to nothing about that. So, he picks up the gun from next to the boy's corpse. No bullets. He spots some on the bed, and takes his time to reload the revolver.

"Kevin?" A woman's voice sounds from downstairs; the front door shuts. "Kevin, are you home?"

Shit.

This wasn't planned at all. Now somebody else needs to be removed. Dean navigates through the darkness of the house as he hears the woman--who he assumes to be Kevin's mother--call the kid's name. Yeah, he's dead, not coming back anytime soon. He suffocated. Quick and simple. Clean. But now--as he comes down the stairs with the gun pointed at the woman--he figures this will be messy.

There's enough light in the living room to show that she's terrified. Of course she is. There's an unknown man in her house with a gun. "Where's my son!? Where's my Kevin!?"

"I think we both know the answer to that question, Mrs. Tran." Dean says quietly. An emotion, similar to remorse, fills his ice cold heart. "You weren't supposed to be here. It wasn't supposed to go down like this. I'm...I'm sorry."

Tears stream down the woman's face as she realizes the harsh fate that has befell upon her son will now happen to her as well. All it takes is one quick shot. Just one little bullet to the brain. She goes drops easily enough; her body makes a soft thud on the way down. Dean is left with the gun in his hands, reflecting on his past decisions.

* * *

"Thanks, Cas." Sam unbuckles his seatbelt as he hops out of the car. "I owe you one."

The other teen just smiles. "Don't mention it. You don't owe me anything. Just keep your head up, Sam. It'll be over soon."

"One can only hope. You goin back to Kevin's now?"

"Nah. I better get home to Michael before he goes to work. Poor guy. Working three jobs, but will give me shit if I so much as have fun with my friends. But I guess that's what family is for. Berating you just because they love you. Alright. Text me later."

"Will do."

Sam waves off his friend when he drives down the street. He only goes towards the door when he sees that Cas has rounded the corner at the end of the block. He feels bad for his friend, and wonders why he doesn't resent him like Michael does. They've lost two of their brother's to Dean, yet Castiel remains loyal to Sam. It's odd, except that it also isn't.

Before he opens the door, Sam knows what's lying in wait for him. There's John, seated on the couch with a glass of the strongest whiskey around. The television's off, making the house seem otherworldly quiet. Just how those detectives outside would like. But right now though, he wishes that it wasn't this way. John's hair is a fucking mess, and his clothes are disheveled. He's been drinking heavily.

He hasn't seen his father this drunk since...well, that night. The night that changed their lives for the worse. John had to cope with the pain somehow, just like his youngest son, though Sam's coping mechanism was vastly different from his father's. The man becomes alerted to his offspring's presence when he closes the door. Sam removes his hoodie as he cautiously observes his father.

"Where were you...?" John nearly slurs. He finished the whole bottle this time. Impressive.

"I..." Sam starts, obviously scared. "I was still at Kevin's."

"Why didn't you pick up your phone?" The question is almost a broken whisper. It pierces Sam in the heart.

"I was having too much fun. I was distracting myself." He goes for the stairs soon. "It won't happen again."

"You're goddamn right it won't happen again. You're grounded."

This causes the boy to stop in his tracks, surprised. His face pales. "What? Dad, that's not fair! That's bullshit and you know it!"

"Watch your mouth! And what I said is final! There's no taking this back..."

"But, Dad, I--"

"Stop!" John yells. His voice reverberates off the walls of the house. It's a commanding tone, one that Sam's rarely heard. So, he snaps his mouth shut, petrified. "Do you...do you even understand what's happening right now? Do you have any idea? Let me refresh your memory. Dean, your older brother, has escaped from the sanatorium, and has killed someone! Hell, he's probably killed more, and we don't even know about it! But at the center, is you. You're what he truly wants...and I'm not letting that happen. With you here--safe in this house--he'll turn up, and when he does, I'll be here waiting. So, no. You're not going anywhere. End of discussion. Go upstairs. Now."

There's...nothing Sam can really say at this point. It only makes sense that he stays here, but it sucks that Dean's causing all of this panic. Yet...Sam realizes that isolating himself may be the key to stopping his brother once and for all. This means no one getting hurt, or worse: Dead. He cannot allow that. It's no one's fault really. Kinda.

Unfortunately understanding his father's drunken rant, the teen slowly walks his way up the stairs. He goes as fast as his gangly will take him. Once reaching his room, he shuts the door, locking it. He doesn't want John barging in again for no reason. Probably to check on him. Whatever.

Sam takes off his shoes as he sits on the bed; he then lays on it, eyes to the ceiling. He's spent so long being a prisoner in his own mind. Now he's a prisoner in his own home, just waiting for the police to vanquish the evil that used to reside in this very building. Dean's smiling face pops up in his head suddenly, green orbs promising love and security.

That is one of many impure thoughts and images.

* * *

As he expected, Castiel was yelled at by his older brother/legal guardian. Michael has made it clear on a variety of occasions that he is to end his friendship with Sam Winchester, but he simply cannot. They've bonded immeasurably over the tragic deaths of Lucifer and Gabriel, something that Michael hasn't gotten over yet.

He obviously resents Sam over Dean's rampage a year ago. He sees it as his fault that his little brothers were snatched out from under him in the blink of an eye. Though Castiel doesn't blame Sam at all. No, he certainly gives Dean all of the blame. Strange. He used to have the biggest crush on the guy. Even gave him a blowjob.

Oh well. That's all in the past now. Michael soon leaves for work, scolding Castiel once more for his defiance. He can bark orders all he wants. Doesn't mean he's actually gonna listen or follow those bullshit rules. In just one year, he'll be gone, away with Sam to Stanford University where they dream of attending. Far from this place.

As he opens the refrigerator, Castiel remembers that he forgot to call Kevin to tell him he's staying in. He fishes out his cell phone, quickly unlocking the screen. The blue eyes teen holds the phone to his ear as he looks for leftovers to heat up. The ringing on the other end keeps going on and on until Kevin's voicemail comes up. Hmm.

Soon, he hangs up and trues again. But once again, he's met with his friend's voicemail. This is a little...odd. Maybe he fell asleep. That seems highly likely. Yeah. Nothing else. Castiel doesn't want to assume the worst. Just as he picks out what he wants to eat, the doorbell rings. Who could that be at this hour? No one rings the bell this late? Strange.

Intrigued, Cas slowly opens the front door, expecting to see Kevin or maybe Michael forgetting something. But he's met with...no one. There's nobody here. Just the wind. He looks left and right, frowning. Could it have been the wind? He idly wonders if the doorbell is sensitive, and needs a repair. It's possible.

He shuts it closed soon enough, going back into the kitchen to make his food, but is drawn back towards the front door when the doorbell sounds again. Castiel keeps his grimace on his soft face. He's afraid now. This isn't normal. Shit like this only happens to dumb blondes in horror flicks right before they're cut into pieces and set up to scare the main protagonist in the finale.

Bravery takes over all emotion as Castiel swings open the door again. Just like the previous time, he finds no one here. He takes more of his time to look though, checking beyond the tree in his front yard. When he spots nothing, Cas sighs, but it gets worse. Soon, he hears glass shatter in the kitchen behind him, sparking his attention.

He rushes back inside, locking the door as he does so. Castiel power walks back into the kitchen, visibly shaken. A clear, glass cup is on the floor, broken into many tiny shards. What's more, however, is that the backdoor is mysteriously wide open. Cas shuts it, determined to call the police. Right as he tries, he hears the thud of someone's boots behind him.

The teenager gasps, dropping his phone. He's hyperventilating. He hasn't even turned around and yet he knows that the person in his house wants him dead, out of the picture. Cas soon finds his courage again, slowly turning around. There's a man there looking at him with one of the kitchen knives in his hand. He's got a black ski mask with gloves on. Cas is unsure, but almost certain that this man is Dean.

Without putting much thought into it, he takes off running towards the front door. He feebly attempts to open it, having forgotten so quickly that he locked it just minutes before. Just as he flings it open to leave, he's grabbed from behind, and pulled back inside. Cas grunts on the floor, back injured. Dean shuts the door again, making sure to lock every single lock.

Castiel tries to run again, but his attacker grabs his hair, slamming his head on the ground once. The pain is unimaginable. He sees stars flitting about in his head, glistening and blurring his vision. It gets worse. When Cas least suspects it, Dean drives the knife into his side once, then twice, then three times.

Each time it happens, the pain gets worse. He wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy. Castiel knows that he is about to die, yet as strange as it sounds for a teenager, he's made his peace with it. He'll leave Michael alone, true, but he'll see his other brothers again. And even as he feels the blood leaving his system, Castiel still doesn't blame Sam for this. For any of it.

"I'll never...abandon you...Sam..." Cas says.

With a weak hand, he reaches up to grab at the man's mask, taking it off.

* * *

There's not much to do right now. Sure, Sam could read a book or watch TV, or talk to someone on his phone, but he doesn't see the point of it right now. John's words hurt, but they're true. As long as he stays stagnant in one place, less people will die. And that's the way it should be. Sam doesn't know what he'd do if Cas or Kevin were harmed.

Suddenly, he hears a familiar tapping at his window. Despite knowing exactly who it is, he still frowns. Sure enough, when he hops off the bed to look at his visitor, he sees Jesse on the other side, grinning like a mad man. Sam shakes his head as if knowing this is a bad idea, yet he opens up the window anyways.

The boy helps his boyfriend through the window without making any noise, unlike the last time he did this. Jesse stands to his full height, broad shoulders casting an intimidating shadow on Sam. He's a pretty big guy who could easily win in a brawl, so Sam thinks it's great to have him on his team. He's not sure if he wants to see Jesse and Dean in a one on one fight.

"What are doing here?" Sam whispers in disbelief. "I thought you were working."

Jesse keeps grinning. "I was, but I called off to see you. To see how you were holding up."

"Pretty bad, actually. Just got back from Kevin's house. Dad called me, and I didn't pick up, now I'm grounded. Can't leave the house."

"Hmm. Does this mean that you can't sneak out to see me now?" Jesse grabs his lover's hips.

Sam laughs. It feels good to laugh. "For the time being. I'm stuck up here like some princess--or in my case, a prince--in a tower."

"Guess that makes me your knight in shining armor. Come on, let's seal the deal with a kiss."

Though it's said as a joke, Sam relents in Jesse's attempt at kissing him. They've never really gone past this before. Maybe they might tonight. He  _is_ feeling pretty vulnerable lately with his flesh and blood roaming the streets of Lawrence again. It might not have to be tonight, but he does trust Jesse with he is heart.

The kissing soon progresses further than that when Sam feels Jesse's crotch press up against his own. There's a distinct bulge that doesn't seem to die down. Without warning, the older of the two takes Sam's hand, holding it up to growing erection. The pair both moan at thehe touch, but Jesse more so than Sam. It's strange. There's a heat pulling down and up in his stomach. Like butterflies. It's arousing.

"See what you do to me?" Jesse groans, unzipping his pants. He takes out his cock; Sam sees it for the first time. It's huge! "I'm going crazy, Sammy..."

That name. That fucking name! It's like a trigger word! Now, every time someone calls him that, he'll always be reminded of Dean. What's truly upsetting, and disgusting, is that Sam was...sort of fantasizing about kissing Dean once more. God, this is so messed up! The boy separates from his boyfriend, very visibly shaken. Jesse, sensing that something is wrong, tucks his member back into his pants.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Sam shakes his head, exhaling slowly, never looking him in the eye. "It's just...I need more time. I don't think now is the right time for us to do this."

"Right." Jesse frowns. "Will it...will it ever be the right time?"

What?

"What?"

"Sam, we've been together since January. And during our time together, we haven't done anything besides kiss. I'm a man, and as awful as it may sound, I've got needs."

"My brother is probably out there somewhere carving up some unlucky bastard, and you're worried about getting your rocks off?" Sam asks incredulously. "Seriously? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Me? What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you? You're letting your past experience with Dean cloud your mind from exploring sex with me and accuse me of being the problem?"

The words shoot through his heart at high velocity. Sam's heart has been shattered into a million little pieces by the one he loves. There's no taking that one back. Jesse soon realizes his mistake, and tries to approach Sam, but it's too late. The boy takes a step back, putting his hand on Jesse's chest as a sign to stay away.

"Get out." Sam whispers. "You need to leave now."

"Sammy--"

"Don't you call me that!" He hisses. "Not you, not anyone! You're not allowed to say that name. So, you'd better go. I hear that people who get to close to me end up dead."

That was a little too harsh, but it's necessary. If he breaks his heart, then he'll be safe. After a few seconds of staring at each other, Sam hears John bounding up the stairs. He rattles the knob. When it doesn't open, he pounds at the door, demanding that Sam open it right now. It sounds urgent!

Not caring that Jesse is standing in the middle of the room, Sam unlocks the door for his father. John doesn't seem to care much that his son's boyfriend is here; there's terror on his face, and his phone is tight in his grasp. There is something that he isn't saying right away. Whatever it may be, it's definitely not good news.

"Dad, what is it? What's wrong?"

"It's Castiel and Kevin. Something happened."

* * *

Sam nearly pushes a nurse out of the way as he speeds down the hall. This can't be happening. Not today. Not Cas. Not Kevin. John calls after him, Jesse too. He came along on the ride here. Sam's still kind of mad at him, yet at this moment, it isn't about what they have. It's about his best friend. The one that still lives.

Eventually, after navigating through the halls, Sam spots Michael crying over Sheriff Jody Mills' shoulder. As if his heart wasn't shattered enough tonight. He swallows the harsh lump in his throat, urging his feet to take him forward. Upon looking through the window, he sees Castiel in the hospital bed with various wires and tube connecting to him. Holy shit...this isn't good. Not at all.

"Cas..." Sam ends up whispering, yet Michael hears him anyways.

"You!" Michael growls. He grabs Sam by the throat, backing him against the wall. "You did this to him! If it wasn't for you, he'd still be okay!"

It takes the combined efforts of John, Jody and three other officers to separate him from Sam. The teenager coughs, scared. This is the most angry he's ever seen Michael. It's all grief. The officers (under Jody's instructions) take him away, and down to the station to her office. The entire time, he yells at Sam wildly, nearly foaming at the mouth.

"It should be you in there! Do you hear me!? It should've been you!"

Once he's away and out of view, Jody talks to John and Sam. "I'm...I'm sorry you had to--"

"It's fine." Sam interrupts. "I get it. He's going through something."

"That doesn't excuse his behavior!" John bellows. "I'm pressing charges."

Sam puts his hand on his dad's shoulder as a way of trying to calm him, then looks to the sheriff. "What happened?"

"Well, looks like Dean broke in, and thrashed him up pretty damn good. Seventeen stabs wounds to the abdomen."

"Is he gonna make it?" Jesse questions.

"Time will tell. He's in critical condition. Surviving seventeen stab wounds is a miracle in itself. Neighbors heard a commotion, and came to check it out. Cas is stable, but we won't know much until later on."

The boy clutches his chest, gazing at Castiel's form. "And Kevin...?"

The sheriff sighs, smoothing some of Sam's hair back. "He didn't make it. His mom is also dead..."

Goddammit. Fucking Dean! What the hell is wrong with him!? He's made this personal. Sam solemnly nods while walking away down the hall. Jesse tries to touch him, but he shrugs him off. John as well. He needs to be alone right now. Michael was right. It should've been him. If Dean had killed him or vice-versa, none of this would have taken place.

Dean did this. Dean destroyed his life.

And Sam wants his blood as penance.

An eye for an eye.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is a good day. ;)


	5. Sammy Wants Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Witness Dean Winchester's decline into madness, starting at age four.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's POV in this entire chapter.

_I wasn't entirely certain why I kept coming back into his nursery then, but looking back on it now, I'd say it was because I was amazed. Amazed that something so innocent, something so pure and good came from my mother and father. Sammy was a beautiful little baby, brighter and smarter than any other child just born. I knew that already. And no one could tell me otherwise._

_At an early age, I knew he was special. I knew that he had to be protected. By me of course. I'd be the one to protect him from the monsters in the closet and the ones under the bed. I was his big brother after all. Nothing could change that. So in the middle of the night, I'd wake up and go directly to Sammy's room. Mom and Dad would find me in the morning, but with me in there, he'd never cry. Not once. That helped me understand that he knew he was safe with me._

_With his big brother._

_His first words ever were "De". I smiled that day as I do now. This was after mom died. I don't feel much from her loss, though John did...and probably still does. Maybe it was because I was so young. I barely even remember her. Sam literally has zero memories of her, and it'd probably be amazing if he did. Like I said, he's smart. Probably would give Einstein a run for his fucking money._

_But the day he said my name for the first time, I cried. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was sitting on the couch with him watching cartoons with my cereal while John made his coffee. Then Sammy looked at me with his big, hazel eyes like I was God himself, and said it. "De". Though it wasn't exactly right, I understood it's meaning, and it brought a few tears to my eyes. John had heard, and ran into the room._

_He asked Sam if he could say Daddy, but he would only look and call to me. I suppose he knew his real father when he saw him. After all, I practically raised him too. When John wasn't around, I filled in as the father. I made sure he had clean clothes to wear in the morning, and that he had eaten and taken his bath. I did the things that John didn't because of that dangerous job of his. Stupid prick._

* * *

_I was ecstatic that Christmas. Sammy had gotten me this strange amulet that I still wear under my shirt. I've always held it close to me wherever I went, and I never ever took it off. Ever! It's a big piece of Sam's love. When he promised me that come whatever, we'd still have each other, something clicked in my brain. I knew without a doubt that it was only the two of us against the world like he said._

_But then Dustin happened. Dustin was one of Sam's little friends in middle school. As I turned fourteen, I watched quietly as Sam and Dustin became closer and closer. It was obvious that the little bastard liked Sammy, but my boy was always just a tad bit naive when it came to stuff like that. It irked me to see Dustin basically throwing himself at Sam. So fucking desperate! Makes me sick to remember such a thing. He had to be eliminated._

_One day, when Dustin was walking home from his tutor's house, I convinced him that Sam wanted to meet him in the woods. Without hesitation, he followed me. Dumb fucker. That was his worst and last mistake. He figured out pretty quickly that Sam wasn't coming, and started getting scared when I approached him with my knife. I shoved it in his throat, not giving it much thought._

_That was that. My first kill was when I was fourteen, and it's as fresh in my mind as air I breathe. I buried him that day, not too far from where I killed him. The police went wild trying to find him, chalking it up to him running away. As far as I know, his mother still believes her son to be alive. I'll keep on letting her believe that if it makes her feel better. However, there's a sad note to this tale._

_Sam was devastated when he learned that Dustin "ran away". Something about him being his one true friend. I'm not gonna lie, that had hurt my feelings, but that's okay. I got over it. And I helped him get over Dustin's "disappearance". I made a vow to myself that day that I would allow Sammy to have friends so long as they didn't get too close. The further apart they were, the better. I should've known better than to believe that it'd be just me and him with no one trying to come between us._

* * *

_It wasn't until I was eighteen that I realized I was hopelessly, unapologetically in love with Sammy. My baby brother. I knew it was qring, but if I felt that way, maybe it was fate. I was fated to fall in love with him. I was fated to be with him forever and ever and ever. Sam was starting to really grow into his beauty at fourteen. I was yearning to have a piecof him so bad._

_I'd excuse myself when we watched horror movies together so I could jack off in the bathroom. Being around Sam did things to me. Strange things. He was all I could think about, more often than usual. It was scary, except for when it wasn't! I knew then that it was meant to be. Sammy was the only one for me, the only drug I ever needed. The only thing that could get me high._

_Of course, I couldn't tell him right away. No. I had to hide my obsession from him, as heartbreaking as it was. And there were times when I could've sworn he knew, and was teasing me by wearing skimpy little shirts that revealed more than necessary. It was like Sammy was begging me to fuck him hard and rough, but I couldn't. He doesn't deserve it like that._

_With Sam, it should be slow and loving. I got carried away that night that I made him run away from me. I still feel like an awful prick. After murdering those fake friends of his, I told him everything, or rather he figured it out himself. I told you he was smart. John tried his best to get Sam away from me, but he failed. So I stabbed him twice. I would've kept going, but my baby boy told me not to._

_It was then that I decided it was time. That it was time that he and I completed our union. As John was lain on the floor, covered in his own blood, I stripped my Sammy down. Well, strip down isn't exactly true. I got rid of those pesky sweatpants though. I didn't need to do anything other than unzip my jeans. I was erect, way too excited to properly prepare Sam for my huge cock, but a little bit of spit can go a long way._

_God, it heaven on earth for me! Sammy was so fucking tight. I thought my dick was gonna be squeezed to death by his tight ass. I just couldn't help myself. I had to go deeper. I had to go faster. Sammy was literally the best I've ever had. He's above everyone I've slept with, and it's a pretty big list. I came inside of him soon after; it was over too quickly for my taste._

_However, as I was coming down from the intense bliss, Sam hit me with a fire poker before taking off into the woods. I was so fucking surprised that he'd do something like that, but then I remembered how hard I was going on him. There was even a little bit of blood, but I didn't notice until it was over. I couldn't let him go, however, so I zipped up my pants, grabbed my knife and chased him._

_I figured John would bleed out from his wounds. And I kinda wanted him to die slowly, knowing that I was the one who killed him. Making him watch as I fucked the boy I raised wasn't half bad either._

* * *

_After he knocked me out on that beach, I woke up in the back of a police car with handcuffs around my wrists. I struggled, of course, screaming Sammy's name at the top of my lungs. When I spotted him getting in the ambulance with John, he looked at me with cruel, hateful eyes. My heart was broken. I didn't think Sam would ever look at me like that._

_Soon, there was a trial. They made me plead insanity and that's what I did. I was sent away to the nearest sanatorium for the criminally insane. That place was Hell on earth. The patients inside were lost. I has once witnessed a woman slam her face against the wall repeatedly until she was dead. The doctors were too late. As if they cared about what happened to us._

_They way those bastard treated me...I WASN'T LIKE THE REST OF THEM! I had no problems! All I wanted was to have Sammy close to me, by my side. Love makes you do strange, crazy things, but I'm not crazy! It's just when I love, I love hard, and that's what happened. Sure, I might have lost it a few times and snapped a few necks, but it was all for my boy. My Sammy._

_Inside, I met a man. Fergus Macleod. Though he went by "Crowley". The strange thing about Crowley was that he believed himself a Demon. Yeah. A real, live Demon that was from Hell. He was the only semi-sane person there, so I befriended him. It would've been worse for me if I got on his bad side. Crowley had a way of making individuals "disappear", yet I had no clue how. He's got connections, so he say._

_Throughout my time in that shithole, the only thing that kept me from taking my hair out was the letters I'd write to Sammy. While disappointed that he never wrote me back, I was fine. I just knew that he read them. This bond that we share--as strange as it's gonna sound--lets me know certain things. Maybe it's intuition. Maybe it's divine intervention. Whatever it is though, I'm grateful. Working out also kept me from slaughtering a doctor or two._

_One day, I decided that enough was enough. I just had to leave and bonded reunited with my Baby Boy once again. When I came up to Crowley, it was like he knew exactly what I was going to say. He gave me a wide grin, telling me that "the power will go out tonight". I didn't know exactly what he meant until it actually happened. Somehow, he managed to cause a blackout in the entire sanatorium._

_Crowley came to my room, and we escaped into the night. But that's after we killed some guards and doctors. The patients also provided an additional distraction, so that was good. Once we were in the clear, Crowley and I parted ways. He told me that if I needed anything, I'd know where to find him. And I do; he gave me instructions on how to do so. I feel like I'm forever indebted to that guy, even if he's a true psychopath. I will definitely need him later._

* * *

_God, just looking at him again was a real treat. He grew up so much within a whole year! His hair is still shaggy as all Hell, but a little longer. I froze when I called him the first few times. I didn't know what to say! Would he recognize my voice? Would he be happy? I didn't know then. But when I made myself known to him, all I saw was...fear._

_I guess I'll never understand why he's so afraid of me. All I've ever done was love him. The way he held back those kids like they were so fucking special made me furious. I knew they too had to go. But as usual, Sammy decided to be stubborn. He got them away from me, and he ran. No matter what he does though, I can't stay angry at him. He'll learn that it's always been me looking out for him. No one else._

_I'm the type of man who's very protective of his lover. When I saw that blonde douchebag kiss **My** Sammy, I thought I was gonna lose my shit. No really. I have no idea what stopped me from storming in that house to kill him, but I didn't question it. I knew then that I'd have to study Sammy. Just to see who I'm gonna have to eliminate to get him to myself._

_I decided to leave that guy for last just to see Sam's reaction. That should teach him a valuable lesson. There's no one on this earth that will love him as much as me! I'm all he'll ever need in life! He doesn't need anyone else. Just me. That's why I killed Kevin. He had to go too. I'm not very proud of killing Mrs. Tran though, but I had to. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I kinda feel bad about that._

* * *

_There's a sweet, sexy memory that I have of Sam and I from a year ago, before the killings. It was a typical Friday night, except I wasn't strangling a hooker to death. Sam was on the couch with me as we watched The Exorcist. God, I remember when he was absolutely terrified of that movie. There's few things he's scared of. One of them? Clowns. I still gave him shit for that. But it's not about that._

_In this particular instance, Sam wasn't wearing any pants, just a t-shirt and boxers. I, however, was fully clothed. I made an off hand comment about him resembling the possessed girl when he vomits. He in turn tells me that I am a jerk that couldn't manage to keep a girlfriend. If he only knew the real reason for that. If he only knew then that I couldn't keep one because of him. Anyways, I wasn't offended, but I pretended to be._

_I started tickling him; he hates that with an intense passion. Sammy squealed for me to stop, begging really. It was cute...but then it stopped being cute when he moaned in my ear. Yes, he **moaned**. I didn't realize at the time that I was on top of him, nearly grinding our crotches together. He politely pushed me off while he quietly announced that he was going to bed. His face was flushed red, and he wouldn't look me in the eye._

_The next morning, he pretended like it never even happened. That's my shy boy. That only fueled my desire for him. In that slight moment of hesitation that night, he wanted me. I saw it in his eyes. That look was undeniable._ _Sammy wants me._   _Even if he doesn't know it yet._

_But he will. I'll make sure of it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a reason why Dean didn't mention Castiel. Can you guess why? Could it be that...? :) Stay tuned!


	6. I Hate That I love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations are made known when John decides to take Sam and run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter's title is...interesting, isn't it? >:)
> 
> (I apologize for any major spelling/grammar errors. I suck, I know.)

_"Do you ever wonder what would happen if we just ran away together, Sammy?"_

_"Why would we ever run away, De? We've got a nice life here."_

_"Yeah...I guess. But I was just wondering. I'd take care of you. You know that, right?"_

_"Of course. You're like a second dad. Haha, that sounded way less creepy in my head."_

_"No, no. You're right. I **am** your other dad. I've been taking care of you since you were running around in your diapers babbling my name like a banshee. As much as you're my little brother, you're also my kid. Love you, Sammy."_

_"Whatever...Love you too, Jerk."_

_"Hehe. Bitch."_

Sam hasn't the slightest idea as to why he started thinking of that memory. It was a night in which Dean convinced him to sneak out with him. They took the Impala, and drove to a wide open field to look up at the stars. Dean led him out of the car, and up onto the hood.

They stargazed up into the night sky, admiring the many stars. The moon was full too, that much Sam knows. It was a magical moment. At the time, he wished that it didn't have to end, but it did, and they returned home a few hours after that. Dean always did seemingly impossible things just for his brother's sake. Now he Sam gets why.

It's not normal to think of your sibling like that! It's just--It's just wrong! Dean, though technically insane, might have thought about what he was doing at least once. Sam hates him with every single bone in his body. Dean hurt him and the survivors around him, callously murdering those who he felt were coming in on his territory.

But...somewhere deep down in his heart, there just may be a--

"Sammy, I've been calling you, Kiddo."

John's voice shakes Sam out of his trance. Thank God for that too. He was about to explore a thought he didn't want to. Just no. His father steps out of the hospital doors alone; Jesse's probably still inside. Sam didn't see him come out. He's still pissed off at him. It's best if they are apart for a while. They need it.

The boy still says nothing as his dad stands next to him, hands shoved into his pockets. Sam's no mind reader, but his father's giving off some intense vibes. Hatred. Remorse. Sadness. Vengeance. John is protective over his remaining child, and he'll stop at nothing to prevent Dean from digging his talons into him once again.

"Sorry." This is all Sam says, looking at the stars.

"Are you...okay?"

He scoffs. "You already know that I'm not. I don't know why you even bothered to ask."

"Because I'm your father, and I care about you."

"Right...right. Where's Jesse?"

"Still inside." John sighs, fiddling with his cellphone. "I told him to stay here. Give you some space, ya know? Listen, I've been thinking in there, and I've come up with something."

This piques Sam's interest just a bit. "What are you talking about?"

"I talked to Bobby. He, uh, he misses you, Sam. And I was thinking that...you'd like to go to Sioux Falls for a while, just until we catch Dean, and everything calms down around here." The man continues on when Sam remains silent. "It's the only way I know how to protect you now. By being far away from here."

This is shocking news to be honest  Sam didn't realize that the situation would get so very out of control that this would be the last option for them. He's not feeling betrayed because his life's on the line, as well as his sanity. And yeah, it'd be nice to stay with Uncle Bobby for the time being. It's been a long time since he's seen him in person.

Bobby treats Sam as if he's his own kid since he's never had children of his own. He absolutely adores the boy, and they have so much in common anyways. Bobby loves books, and learning about anything related to anything. Sam shares this trait; when he's not studying up on something for school, he's looking up other strange, outlandish information. Who'd know that a sixteen year old boy would know how to properly dismantle a television and turn it into a radio?

His intelligence was always something he was complemented on. Teachers, other adults, and Dean himself. For the second time tonight, he unwillingly sees his psychopathic, homicidal brother not as the monster he is, but the gentle, kind and caring individual he once was. What's happening to him? Dean killed his friends, and nearly slaughtered Castiel tonight! There's no way he'd look at him the same again...

"Are you staying too...? He asks the question as he stares upward into the sky.

"I...No. No, Sammy. I won't be staying with you and Bobby. I gotta help find Dean."

"Why do you always see me as this weakling?"

The words that come from his mouth are unexpected. John's even taken aback by this. "What are talking about?"

"No one ever cares about what I say anymore." Sam starts. "They take one look at me and think 'There he is! There's the boy that almost died! The boy whose brother is Dean Winchester!' I get so sick of it. You, and everyone else treat me as if I'm made of glass. Like I'm about to break apart at a moment's notice. I'm not! I want to be treated like a regular human being. I'm fine! I'm...I'm fine. I know I suffered horribly, but I'm okay."

"You're not okay." John grabs his son for a hug, kissing the top of his head. He can hear the man crying. "You're not okay, Sammy. It's okay to be weak sometimes."

"I wanna kill him...I want him dead. I want Dean dead..."

The two Winchesters only embrace one another as they cry together. John's not happy, but that's nothing new. Sam meant what he said though. He wants Dean to die. If not by the police, then by his own two hands. If he makes a sudden appearance before leaving for Sioux Falls, Sam will eliminate him, no questions asked.

It's only fair, right? Dean drew first blood, so of course he has to pay. But even though he's aware about all of these heinous acts that his brother has committed, Sam cannot deny the many years of love they gave each other. They say love is stronger than any other emotion, but could that be true? Is he feeling hatred for Dean or...something else?

Something else?

No. Impossible.

* * *

Dean sits on the chair that belonged to his latest victim. He knows not of her name, but she put up one Hell of a fight. It was struggle just to force himself into her house. At first, he didn't even want to kill her, just tie her up and throw her in the basement or something so he could use her house as a temporary base of operations. But then she fought back, prompting Dean to viciously snap her neck.

It had to happen, he tells himself. There was no other way. It's strange now. He's staring to feel something when he kills people. Regret. This didn't happen before, so why is it happening now all of a sudden? It could be because of Sammy. He was always the most emotional of the two. His feelings are probably rubbing off on him. Yet, Dean doesn't feel angry or any negative emotion.

He only smiles. Sam is the key to everything. The key to everlasting happiness. The key to success. The key to...redemption. Dean's body starts feeling strange; butterflies in his stomach. He...He no longer needs to...kill. He doesn't have to kill anyone else now. All that needs to be done is to get Sammy, and go. Whoever tries to stop them  _might_ end up dead, but he's not so sure.

It's possible to incapacitate someone without killing them. Dean has never done that before though. But if it means that Sam will come back to him, then he'll do whatever he has to. However, he can't help but feel off about that guy Sammy's been associating himself with. There's just something odd with him, and Dean would know!

When he thinks about that asshole locking lips with his Baby Boy, all he feels is intense rage. Yeah, this isn't gonna work. At least not right away. That motherfucker has to go! Resolving himself, Dean grabs the gun and puts it in the waistband of his jeans. He's gotta go get Sammy, kill the douche, and get the Hell outta dodge. He can do all of this without laying a hand on John.

Dean was always a sneaky little bastard. He's inherited it from his father after all.

* * *

There's soft music playing from Sam's phone through the wireless speakers. He's packing his bags up right now. He has decided that his father is right, and that the best way to protect him is to hide him away. Sam is sad though, that John isn't coming with him. He's gonna stay here to catch Dean. It's likely that he'll fail, but the boy has hope that they'll get him.

_"Guess what, Dean?"_

_"What's up?"_

_"Lucifer Milton asked me out on a date! I'm kinda excited!"_

_"Oh...yeah. That's, uh, that's great. Really happy for you..."_

_"Dean? What's the matter? Are you okay?"_

_"Me? Yeah, yeah. I'm okay. When's the date?"_

_"This Friday night."_

_"We have our Movie Night on Fridays..."_

_"I know, but I was hoping that you'd let this one slide. Please? It's my first date, and I'm nervous!"_

_"No, Sammy. We have Movie Night. Besides, you know how he is. How do you know he's even serious about this? Who's to say that it's not a trick? I can't let you do that. I don't wanna see you hurt."_

_"He's not gonna hurt me, De. I promise. Don't you trust me?"_

_"Of course I trust you. It's him I don't trust. Just...don't do anything crazy, okay? You need to stay a virgin forever, or until you find the right one."_

_"Oh my god, I don't wanna have this conversation with you. I'm not thinking about sex any time soon."_

_"That's my boy..."_

Having these strange flashbacks causes Sam to stop what he's doing. He smiles at the memory. Dean was caring. But then he frowns. Dean was actually being selfish. He killed Lucifer on Thursday, and the police found his body that Friday, the day of their date. As usual, Dean comforted him, telling him that the killer will be found and put to justice.

He didn't have a clue then that Dean was talking about himself. Soon, the boy's music is cut off as his phone starts to ring. It's the standard ringtone for the device; he's not too big about customizable tunes. He sighs, ceasing the folding of clothes to pack. When Sam looks at the caller ID, his heart sinks in his chest. The person calling him has Kevin's phone. He hesitantly answers it.

"Hello...?"

_"Hey, Sammy."_

He should have known. Sam's blood boils, yet he cannot find the words he so desperately wants to hurl at Dean. The man on the other line is definitely him, but different. Slightly withdrawn, maybe? Lost? Saddened? Hurt? It has Sam thinking critically for just a moment. His next words should be chosen wisely despite his anger.

"You shouldn't have called." Sam hisses vehemently. He keeps his voice down so John can't hear. "Why are you doing this!? I hate you, Dean! You killed Kevin, and almost killed Castiel! They never--!"

_"Sammy, stop! What are talking about? I never laid a finger on Castiel. After...after Kevin and his mother, I ran. I was...mortified. I didn't hurt Cas."_

Sam grimaces in disbelief. That's not right! "No...that's--that's not true! That's impossible! It had to be you! No one else would have done that!"

_"It wasn't me, Sammy. Trust me. I'll never kill again. I promise..."_

He can hear Dean's loving vow clear as day over the phone. It hurts Sam's soul immeasurably! How could someone like Dean tell the truth about something like that? Having heard too much, Sam hangs up his phone, then shuts it down completely. He wipes his cheeks; he was crying, and didn't even notice. He wants to believe Dean so bad, but how can he?

Dean's done terrible things in the past, so why the sudden revelation!? Why would he say that? To trick him? To make him angry? To confuse him? It doesn't matter now because soon, he's gonna be on his way to Sioux Falls to see his Uncle Bobby. Dean will be caught, and everything will be okay. He'll go back to living a semi-peaceful, happy existence. Sam zips up his backpack. He won't even get to say goodbye to Jesse.

He trudges down the stairs to see John shucking on his coat. They're leaving tonight. The sooner the better. Sam decides not to tell him about Dean's phone call upstairs. He'd most likely freak out. He still can't believe what his brother told him. If he didn't hurt Castiel, then who did? Could Dean be working with someone else? The thought alone is troublesome...

"Ready to go?" John asks, grabbing his keys.

The sixteen year old sighs, hanging his head and shouldering his bag. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

"I don't want you to hate me for this, Sam. I'm doing it because--"

"Because you love me." He speaks up, weakly smiling. "I know. I'm not mad. It's for the best."

"Yeah...yeah it is. Come on. Let's go--"

"Open up! Please, open the door!!"

They're interrupted by a voice at the door. The person outside bangs on the wood of the door, demanding entry. It sounds like Jesse! John tells Sam to stay put while he goes to check it out. The boy complies, keeping his feet planted on the floor. John peels back the window curtain just a bit, revealing that it is in fact Jesse. He wastes no time in letting him in, slamming the room closed after.

Jesse's hands are covered in blood. His shirt too. There's a huge gash on his forearm as well, but it doesn't look so severe. In fact, it seems as though it was...self-inflicted. But that could just be Sam being paranoid. Jesse looks shaken, scared. Whatever happened to him leaves Sam with goosebumps all over his body. His shirt is stained with blood. Blood that isn't his own.

"Jesus Christ!" John breathes. "What the hell happened!?"

Jesse pants, trying to catch his breath. "It was.. it was Dean. I came back here to check on Sam, and I found the detectives outside dead. I tried to help them, but I was too late. That's when he got me. He slashed me and ran away. Tried to fight him off..."

"Yet here you are. Safe." Sam says as he carefully eyeing his boyfriend.

"Yes." Jesse counters, frowning. "I am, and we should..." He stops suddenly, looking over Sam as if confused. "Where are you going?"

Red flag.

"What?"

"I asked where you're going. Doesn't look like you're going out for a short walk..."

"I'm taking Sam away from Lawrence." John speaks up, sharing Sam's slight skepticism. "That's the only way he'll be safe."

"No!" Jesse shouts. "He--He can't go! It's not safe. I'll protect him. He just needs to stay here. With me. He'll be safe. I'll take care of him. Just me. I think I'm better suited for this. I have Sam now, not Dean, so why not? I'm perfect for this. I can save you, Sammy."

What the hell is wrong with him? Jesse doesn't seem like himself. There's a wild, deranged look in his eyes, much like how Dean's looked a year ago. Something isn't right here. Sam, being the intellectual being that he is, starts to slowly piece together bits and pieces from the past incidents of the night. Everything starts lining up completely in his head as if it's a movie.

Castiel's injuries.

Jesse's sudden outburst in his room.

The phone call from Dean.

The blood on Jesse; the weird slash.

It's all starting to come together. What Dean said a while back is completely true. He didn't hurt Cas. And he didn't kill those detectives.

"You..." Sam gasps. "It was you."

The boy's father doesn't quite catch on immediately. "Sam?"

"He killed those men, put Castiel in the hospital and cut himself to make it look like Dean did all of that! Jesse did this."

"No...that can't be!"

Out of the blue, Jesse starts to chuckle, but soon, that chuckle turns into so much more. His laughs transform into hysterical giggling. John slowly tries to inch his way to stand in front if Sam, but the boy notices something out of the ordinary. Jesse, still laughing, swiftly takes out a switch blade, plunging it into the side of John's neck.

Everything seems to move about in slow motion the moment the blade pierces his skin. Sam cannot do anything other than watch as his boyfriend stabs his father. It's brutal, and he swears that a literal part of him has just died. Once Jesse takes out the knife, blood spurts out from John's wound; he clasps his hands over it as he falls to the floor.

Sam, finally gaining control over his body, drops down to his father's side, bawling his eyes out. He tries to apply pressure to the wound the best he can, all the while telling his dad to hang on. Though, at this moment, it seems unlikely that he'll survive. John's eyes water, and blood comes out of his mouth as well. His breathing starts slowing down as he looks up at Sam with a sorrowful gaze. He's aware that he's going to die, and there's not a goddamn thing he can do about it.

Eventually--after several streams of tears--John Winchester passes away in his son's arms. It's official. Sam has no one. Bobby's all the way in Sioux Falls, and the boy has a feeling that he'll never see him again. Hatred fills his troubled heart. Not at Dean, but at someone he had trusted. Someone he had loved. Someone he confided in. Jesse cackles, playing with the bloody blade.

"God, that was messy, wasn't? Didn't think it would resort to this, but...you know." His patronizing smirk infuriates the boy even more. "Awww, what's the matter? I honestly didn't think you'd miss him that much. Bet you didn't see this coming. Dear old dad murdered by the innocent boyfriend. Life's full of twists."

"You son of a bitch!" Sam growls, slowly standing.

Jesse looks on amused. "Oh! So vulgar! Was that really called for? I mean, see it this way. I did you a favor. There's no way you'd escape Dean. Nope. Gotta keep you here so he can come out to play. Then when he does, I'll kill him and be labeled as the hero!"

"God, is that what this is about!? Fame!?"

"No, you little shit!" Jesse holds the switchblade up to Sam's throat, though he is slightly unfazed. "It's more than that. I'm doing this so we can have a future together! If I get rid if Dean for you, you'll love me forever! You know, ever since we met, I was just so...I don't know, obsessed with you. I honestly see why Dean did what he did. You're absolutely gorgeous, Sammy. Don't you know that I love you?'

"You're so full of shit!" The boy snaps. "I've heard of this bullshit before! It's nothing new at all! You kill for me, I find out, happily ever after? No, I don't think so. You wanna know how this story ends. It ends when I defeat you, just like I did with Dean. And my name is Sam. No one calls me Sammy."

"Except him, right?" The blonde's face is stoic, not displaying any type of emotion. "Except Dean. That's what you wanted to say. Well,  ** _Sammy_** , I just had a little change of heart. Seems like you won't be choosing me after all. It's him. It's always gonna be that monster. That's fine. I tried. When I kill you, I'll kill Dean, and then I'll finish off Castiel. Discreetly, of course. After that, the press will come flocking to me as the new hero. They'll probably write a book about me. Maybe get a movie. Doesn't matter."

"You won't win. You think you're safe? You think you can take Dean on by yourself? Ha! Pathetic. Once he finds out what you did to me, you'll already be dead."

"Time to test that theory, don't you think?"

Without warning, Jesse holds the knife up high, aiming to strike Sam in his chest. However, the boy is faster than he is, and quickly dodges his attack. With limited options, he heads for the stairs. He left his cellphone up in his room by accident. However, as he gets halfway up the steps, he's grabbed by the ankle and tripped. It's Jesse. He continuously pulls Sam as the teen tries to grab onto something.

Unfortunately, there's nothing to hold onto, and he's dragged back down the stairs. He attempts to kick his way free, but that is all in vain. Jesse straddles his, putting both hands around Sam's neck. He feels the oxygen being cut off from his body; he's powerless to do anything but claw at he boyfriend's-- _ex-boyfriend_ \--arms. Sam scratches at Jesse's cut, earning him a few short breaths when he recoils.

"Fucking bitch!" The deranged teenager squeals. He then promptly punches Sam in the face before resuming to strangle him. "Goddammit, you look so hot like this. I might let you live...if you beg."

"Screw...you...!"

"Aww, we tried that game, remember? You didn't want to. Hey, look on the brightside: Your body will be much more willing when you're dead. I'm gonna make sweet,  _sweet_ , love to it."

He can't believe what he's hearing! This is a man he thought would protect him from his personal Demons. Sam guesses that he was wrong about him this entire time. Jesse's even more sick than Dean himself! A feat that he never thought possible. He has to give him props when they're due though. For months, he hid his true nature, carefully insinuating himself into Sam's life. A true psychopath through and through.

Eventually, he starts seeing dark spots in his vision. He's about to die. He can feel it. In desperation, Sam calls out to the only person he knows would save him. The man that ruined his life. The man who stole his innocence. The man who killed because he was afraid of losing the love of his is life. The man who would probably keep killing to save said love of his life.

"De...Dean..."

"I'm here, Baby Boy."

_Bang!_

It's all over soon enough. A gunshot is heard by the boy as Jesse falls on top of him, blood leaking out from wherever he was shot. Sam gasps, coughing as he pushes his ex-boyfriend's dead off him. What just happened? Looking about, he glances near the front door. There he is. His savior. His imperfect savior. Dean. He's pissed off, and rightfully so. Sam now understands just how much he means to his big brother. The one he put away for a year.

Dean reluctantly lowers the gun in his hand, gazing at the object of his affections. Sam only inhales and exhales slowly. There's so much that happened in a short time that it's kinda hard to catch up. Jesse killed John, and tried to kill Sam only to be killed by Dean. It's weird really. He never imagined that this would be the outcome of it all. In all honesty, he's scared.

"I had to come to you." Dean finally says something, eyes never leaving Sam's. "I knew something wasn't right."

"I'm...I'm glad you did." Sam says. He's shocked that those words left his mouth, but now that he's started, he can't stop. "I never thought he'd do this to me. It was all a lie. I feel like such a fool."

"You're not a fool. _He_  was the fool. He should've known better than to fuck with what's mine."

Sam stands, confronting the source of his nightmares. "What's yours? What am I, a trophy to you!? Dean, what you did to me can never ever be taken back! You lied to me; you killed people, and you took advantage of me! All these years and you just kept deceiving me! I hate what you've done to me!"

"Sammy..." Dean tries. "Don't cry. I'm sorry--"

"No! Stay away from me! After what you did, I...I couldn't stop...I couldn't stop...thinking about you. You did awful things to me and other people, but as I tried to hate you, I found out that...I couldn't. Not really. You're the worst, and I wish you would've just killed me! I hate it! I hate that I love you! I hate that I love you, and I can't stand it! When you looked at me back then, I knew! I knew you wanted me, but I never said a word because...I guess I wanted you too. That's sick, isn't? Me thinking that way. What's wrong with me...? What's wrong with me?"

And there it is. The real truth. The truth that he's been denying even to himself. Sam never stopped loving Dean, and seeing him like this makes his insides tingle in sick excitement. So, his feet move on their own until he's pressed up against Dean. The man's green eyes flutter, presumably trying to figure out if this is a trick of not.

It is not.

Sam clutches his older brother's shirt like it's his goddamn lifeline. His knees are going weak just thinking about what he's about to do next. He just has to be sure. After a lengthy, internal debate, he goes in for the kill. Metaphorically speaking. He connects his lips up to Dean's, savoring the way he embraces him. This is what he wanted all along, wasn't it? To accept him. He might not ever forgive him for what he's done, but he knows one important thing in particular.

He's safer  ** _with_** Dean than  _ **without**_ him.

* * *

**Two Months Later...**

There's no sign of either of them anywhere, and that sets Bobby's teeth on edge. Sam's gone. Just gone. John's dead, and forensics have confirmed that he was murdered by Jesse Moore, Sam's ex-boyfriend. It's undetermined why he killed John, but it's certain that Jesse himself was killed by Dean, though that's what Bobby thinks. It's the only logical explanation.

He's been visited by the FBI and the press alike, all wanting his comment on Sam's abduction. There's not much to say really. He lost another nephew. Dean snatched him away like a thief in the night without so much as a warning. Now, it's just Bobby and his dog. Sam loved this mutt so much when he was a kid. He used to tell it stories, and was convinced that he understood every detail.

That's all Bobby has now: Memories. Memories of a simpler time when Dean would wait patiently for his little brother to awaken from his nap so they could go play. He and John would crack open a beer and talk and all would be well. Not anymore. He's not so sure that Sam's still alive, but he doesn't want to lose hope.

One day, as he goes out to get the mail, he discovers a letter addressed to him. The person doesn't have a return address on it, but Bobby recognizes that handwriting anywhere! He hurries back inside, nearly ripping the envelope to shreds. Once he starts reading, he doesn't hold back the tears.

_**Dear Uncle Bobby,** _

_**So...I suppose that I have a lot of explaining to do. First thing I want to say is that I'm not being held against my will. I'm fine. Dean didn't abduct me. A while ago, I decided that it was better if I left with him. I can't put him away again. Not now, not ever. He's my big brother, and...I love him. Don't be mad at me. I know what he's done, what he's capable of. I'm healing. Slowly, but surely. The second thing I want you to know is that in order to save people from his wrath, I must remain with him. He's better with me than without. I just want you to know that I love you too...but this is the last time you'll ever hear from me again. Please, when you read this, rip it up. Or burn it. Just destroy it. It was already risky enough sending it. You'll always be in my heart, Uncle Bobby. Don't forget about me. I won't forget about you. Ever.** _

_**Sammy** _

As instructed, Bobby tears up the letter, throwing the pieces into the metal trashcan. He pulls out his zippo lighter, and throws it in the can, watching his nephew's final words go up in flames. He grabs his whiskey, drinking it straight from the bottle. After that, he laughs to himself, which turns into and semi-sob. He understands completely, but Bobby doesn't like it one bit. He knows what they're up to wherever they are...yet he's content.

They always did pick each other after all...


	7. I'm Done Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate ending: Sam confronts Dean for what he thinks is the final time. However, fate has other plans...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I realized that I was just a little unsatisfied with the first ending and I decided to make another one. Either ending in my eyes is considered the "true ending", but I sorta favor this one more. You can also decide. 
> 
> Now, the events leading up to this have changed a bit. Dean no longer feels remorse for his killings, and he has indeed been the one to put Castiel in the hospital and killed those detectives. Jesse is completely innocent; no longer a sociopath. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (There may be weird errors ahead. Stayed up for days with this.)

Sam doesn't know how much of this shit he can possibly take. The killings are finally starting to weigh down on his psyche, making it almost more fragile than it already is. He's scared, and has every right to be. Dean's still out there, murdering to his hearts content. There's no stopping him. Is it the best idea to leave Lawrence? Wouldn't Dean figure it out, and follow him anyways, leaving a trail of death and destruction in his wake?

It seems likely. Highly likely.

The soft music on his cellphone ceases to play as the device rings. He stops packing his bags, curious to know who's calling him at such a convenient hour. Sam shuffles towards his nightstand, anxious to see who it is. His heart skips a beat when he looks upon the caller ID. Whoever this is, is calling from Kevin's phone...and it's already been confirmed that Kevin is dead.

Hesitantly, the boy answers the phone, putting it up to his ear. "H--Hello...?"

_"Hey, Baby Boy! What're you doin?"_

Of course it's him.

"Dean..." Sam growls softly. He doesn't want John to know. "You son of a bitch! Leave me alone!"

_"Oh, Sammy. You always did like playing hard to get, didn't you? I'm not gonna lie, that's such a turn on. But these games have to end. Sooner than later. I'm coming for you. And I'm letting you know this now: Nothing will stand between us again. Not even John. Especially John. I was thinking...should he go first or last? Maybe that pretty boy of your's will die last, just to teach you a lesson."_

"No!" The teenager ends up shouting this time, capturing John's attention. "You stop this! You leave us alone!"

 _"Oh, Baby, I would if I could..."_ Dean's dark chuckle gives him goosebumps.  _"But I can't. I can't ever leave you alone. But if you come with me right now, I'll stop. If you leave with me, I'll leave them alone. What do ya say, Sammy? Clock's ticking..."_

The boy's eyes widen. This will stop if he leaves with him. At least that's what Dean is saying. It could all be a trick, but then again, it might not be. In the past, all he cared about was Sam, no one else really. So it's plausible that he'd indeed stop this carnage. John will be safe. So will Jesse. Castiel too if he manages to live through his injuries.

Rage fills his entire being, and Sam finally makes his decision.

"I'd rather die than be with you..."

For a while, it's quiet. That's scary in itself. Sam thinks he might have disconnected from Dean, but then he hears him sigh, then after that, laugh. Almost maniacally.

_"Liar."_

And just like that, Dean hangs up the phone, leaving Sam standing in the middle of the room feeling horrified. John soon barges into the bedroom, asking him what happened. When he doesn't answer, the boy's father grabs his phone, looking through the call list. Sam can only stare into nothingness. His brother is out there, possibly close by. Watching. Plotting.

Killing without remorse.

Suddenly, the power in the entire house goes out, making a humming noise as it does so. John's stance immediately changes, going from alert to protective in milliseconds. On reflex, Sam grabs his father's arm. The house is so quiet that they'd probably be able to hear a small pin drop. It only adds to the tension. Slowly, John begins to make his move, taking Sam with him.

Since the door's already open, they both slip through effortlessly, yet silently; sneaking is usually the best thing to do in the face of danger. Sam takes out his cellphone just to turn the flashlight on. Even though it's his house, a little light won't hurt. However, as he accidentally shines it at a window, John puts it down, warning him that it could give them away.

Yeah. As if. Dean probably already knows what room they're in right now anyways. And just why hasn't John commanded him to call the police? Is it because he'd rather deal with the threat personally, knowing that any authorities involved will fail at containing Dean? Or is it because he lusts for true revenge? Either or, Sam suspects that someone will die tonight.

Eventually, father and son slowly (but surely) make their way towards the stairs. John goes down first, signaling for his child to stay directly behind him. Sam has no quarrels with this whatsoever, but he worries for his dad. He is, however, also concerned about Jesse. Dean mentioned something vague over the phone not too long ago.

He said that "pretty boy" might die last just to teach him a lesson. Anybody with a brain can piece together that he's talking about Jesse. In Dean's eyes, he moved in on his territory, and is now a hard target. The last time he saw the his boyfriend, he was mildly upset with him. Nevertheless, he cannot allow Dean to take him away so swiftly. He's taken enough people away from him already.

Once they sneak down the stairs, John quietly steps into the living room area. He snatches his coat quickly along with his keys. Sam doesn't bother to go back upstairs for his things. All that matters now is getting the fuck out of this house. But fate is not so kind. Just when the two think that they're in the clear, they hear a loud banging on the front door, accompanied by yelling.

"Open the door! It's me! Please!"

Right away, Sam recognizes that voice. It's Jesse! Before John can even think to stop him, the young teen dashes towards the front door without a second thought. Not the wisest of decisions. After he opens it, he realizes just how badly he screwed up. It was Jesse knocking alright, but that's not all. Dean is here as well. Behind him. With a gun to the back of his head. Once they lock eyes, he grins.

"Let me in, Sammy. Don't you miss me?"

* * *

This is bad.

As childish as it may sound, this is indeed  _bad_. What's happening here is Dean's got John and Jesse seated next to each other on the couch while Sam sits on the edge of the recliner. The green eyed murderer, however, is standing up, playfully twirling the gun in his hands. Sam clenches his jaw. Once again, it's on him. It's his fault that they're in this much danger.

He wishes he had the courage that he had earlier, but just being in Dean's presence makes him feel small. Almost inferior. On a sick level, Dean looks kinda hot like this. Imposing. Dangerous. A bad boy. But as quickly as those thoughts come up, they disappear altogether. He won't sink as low as Dean. Sam won't admit it. He can't. He just won't!

"You fucking bastard..." John sneers up at Dean.

The older Winchester brother only smirks before offering his retort. "Nice seeing you too, Daddy Dearest."

"I'm not your fucking father! Not anymore!"

"Oh!" Dean feigns being offended, placing a free hand over his heart. "That really hurts my feelings! I always called you dad, and I was your son. What is it, Pops? You don't wanna associate yourself with a guy like me? There's nothing wrong with me! I'm perfectly normal!"

"You would lie even to yourself!? You're not fine, Dean! You're sick! A sick, sick fuck who's in love with his own brother! You raped him. That's not love. You're not right in the head. You should've been locked under that fucking place!"

Dean doesn't take to kindly to chastisement. He never has. He balls up his fist, but whips the pistol across John's face. Jesse flinches while Sam shuts his eyes tight. It's bad enough to see it happen, but it's worse to witness it and not do anything about it. He can't. If he tries to intervene, worse things than murder would most likely occur tonight.

"That wasn't a very nice thing to say, Dad." Dean sighs, cracking his neck to the side. "Kinda why you should never,  _ever_ antagonize a man with a gun. Shame on you. Next time's gonna be worse. Believe that." Once he's done talking to John, he sets his sights in Jesse, who only looks down at his feet. "Hey, you. Pretty boy. What's your name?"

"Don't tell him." Sam sobs. "You don't have to--"

"Sammy, baby, be quiet for a second, will ya? You're being rude to our guest. I'm gonna ask you again. What's your fucking name?"

"J--Jesse...My name is...Jesse."

The killer lets out a soft, but menacing chuckle. "That wasn't so hard, was it? I wanna play a little game. It's not too hard. Do you like games, Jesse?"

"I guess..."

"Yes or no. I don't have time for bullshit."

"Yes!" Jesse shrieks. "Yeah. I--I like them."

"Good." Dean takes a seat on the coffee table, gun still in hand. He winks at Sam, then licks his lips suggestively. "Good. Here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna play Truth or Dare. Something easy. The rules are simple: The loser dies, and the winner dies. Fun right!?"

Sam decides to speak up, trying to appeal to his humanity. "Dean, please don't do this! It doesn't have to be this way--"

"Sammy doesn't get to play." He carries on as if he wasn't heard. "Not today. You guys ready? Who wants to go first?"

No! Nonononono! Why is this happening? WHY IS THIS HAPPENING!? Sam can't help but to cry in the chair. Despair fills his heart. No matter what he says or does, they'll die. This knowledge only makes him bawl harder. When he tries to look away, Dean grabs Sam's face harshly; making his lips poke out like a fish. Dean's own expression is scary, yet mischievous.

"We're here to play a game, remember? Be a good boy and watch. No, as a matter of fact...I'll let you pick who goes first."

"Wha...what?" The boy mutters.

"Which. One. Goes. First?"

If he takes too long on answering, Dean will choose for him. Sam looks at the others on the couch, but only John looks at him back. The man lets a tear fall before nodding once. Though horrified that he's forced to make this decision, he knows that John isn't above sacrificing himself for his child. Dean catches on quickly, going back to that wide grin of his.

"Alright, John. Truth or Dare?"

John resigns, keeping his hand on his knees. "Truth."

"Dammit!" Dean laughs. "You were always so boring. Fine. Truth it is. Do you think Sammy would make a great husband? You know,  _my_ husband?"

"I'm not gonna answer that!"

Dean soon levels the barrel of the gun to John's head while gazing at Sam. "If he doesn't answer, he's dead. You'd better give him a hand or my finger might slip and this game will end early."

"D--Dad!" He panics. "Please. Answer the question! Please..."

It's no surprise that this particular question grates John's nerves to his core. He doesn't want to answer, but he does so anyways. "He...he might be a great husband..."

Sam starts to look at his brother after hearing John's response. For a second, there's nothing. No inkling of emotion. His face is simply stoic. But then he cackles in delight, even throwing his head back. Dean seems to be the only one who finds this funny as the situation itself is anything but. The boy grips the arms of the chair until his knuckles turn white.

He can't let this continue! It's only a matter of time until this little innocent game turns deadly. One thing that Sam is completely aware of is that Dean refuses to have him participate. Maybe he can use this to his advantage. He's starting gain some sense of courage in his mind or something extremely similar. Sam doesn't have a plan, but he sure as shit better think of one fast before this all ends in tragedy.

"Damn, that was pretty good! Haven't laughed like that in a while. Oh man. Okay, Pretty Boy. It's your turn. Truth or Dare?"

Jesse hesitates for a second, then answers. "Truth..."

"A bunch of truths here tonight huh, Sammy?" Dean takes a second to press a warm kiss to Sam's forehead before going back to the game. "Okay then. But this is the last time you two pick truth. How do you feel about my darling baby brother?"

Immediately, Sam interjects. "Don't answer that. You don't have to. Dean, please stop--"

"I WON'T STOP! NOW SHUT THE FUCK UP, SAM!"

Never has he ever heard Dean so upset with him. For reasons that he can't decipher, Sam shrinks in on himself. He knows the danger he's in as well as the others, but he feels like he just let his older brother down. He feels very much like the scared little boy who needs to be comforted by his older sibling after being told they were being bad. Like a fucking puppy.

Dean soon sees the damage he's done. He sighs heavily through his nose, soft eyes casted down on Sam. Without a word, he presses his lips right on the young man's. Sam doesn't move. He doesn't even fight it. He only stares blankly ahead, slightly blushing as Dean smooths his chestnut brown hair back in a soothing gesture. It's strange. Why's he doing this?

He's making him feel these weird emotions when he's supposed to hate him. You're supposed to despise your rapist right? Your attacker? Sam does...but he's questioning and having second thoughts about this. What could this mean?

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, Sammy. I'll try not to, but you really need to stay quiet so we can play. Alright? You understand?"

Sam nods and speaks quietly. "Yes...I understand."

The killer smiles. "Alright then. Back to Jesse. What is it that you feel for Sam?"

"I...I'm in...I'm in love with him..." Jesse admits; his gaze is permanently on Sam. "I loved him ever since I met him. I knew he was the one. He had some scars that I was aware of, but I didn't let that stop me. I wanted to get to know him. Sam is my life...and I would've married him...sometime down the road."

This sudden confession hits Sam right where it hurts; his heart. He never truly knew how much Jesse cared for him. And marriage? He can see that. A nice house. Sam going to work at the law firm while Jesse opens his own bakery/coffee shop. Maybe a dog and a...kid? It would've been nice, but it's not gonna happen now, or any time soon.

The silence in the room is broken when Dean chuckles again, though it's not like it was minutes ago. It's quieter, and more malicious than ever. He scrubs his hand down his face, still laughing. He's not happy about what Jesse just revealed. Sam knows it. John knows it, and even the blonde knows it. Eventually, after keeping them all in suspense, Dean speaks to Jesse.

"That was a cute story. No really. Prince Charming coming to woo the boy in distress. Wow. Almost brought a tear to my eye. Almost. Let me ask you something, Jesse. Do you know what Sam's favorite color is? How about his favorite food? Favorite band? Favorite movie? Favorite song? Judging by the look on your face, the answer to all of those is a solid no. Okay. So now, I'm gonna do something different. It's back to you, Jesse. Dare or Dare? Choose wisely."

Simply nonsensical. That's how Sam would describe this.

"Dare." Jesse groans.

"Awesome!" Dean goes into his jacket pocket, producing a hunting knife. "Stab my dear old dad wherever you want."

"What!?" Jesse and John say at the same time, though it's Jesse who seems more perturbed. "I'm not doing it! I won't!"

"I don't think you understand your situation. You might even live longer if you do this. I said anywhere. Just don't kill him. Besides, it's a Dare. No take backs." He sets the knife in Jesse's hand, simultaneously pointing the gun at him. "Ten seconds or I blow your fucking head off. Hurry up now..."

Oh shit! He's serious, isn't he? Of course he is. This is what he does. He wants them to play these sick games for his own sick amusement. Jesse stares at the sharp object, nerves obviously a wreck. The countdown has already started and is halfway through. Sam's scared, but he's been this way since this has started.

"Five..."

"I--I can't do it."

"You can. Four."

"Please..."

"Oh yes. Beg some more. It's only gonna get worse for you. Three."

"I can't do it!"

"You can and you will. Two. Not much time left."

"I can't!"

"One..."

"Aaargh!"

Jesse grips the knife tight, screaming in frustration. He holds it up before plunging the blade into John's leg, right above the knee. The man shouts painfully, loud voice bouncing off the walls of the house. Sam cringes as he takes his eyes away from the scene in front of him. That wasn't expected at all! Jesse didn't have much of a choice though. It was either that or die immediately...and none of them want to die.

John grunts and groans in agony. The knife is protruding from his fucking leg! Anybody would feel the same honestly. However, something happens, turning this situation from bad to worse in a matter of seconds. As Dean becomes distracted by laughing too much, John swiftly pulls the knife out of his leg. He holds it up as if to attack his son, but he's quicker.

Right before John strikes, Dean regains his concentration. He points the gun directly at John and pulls the trigger once. It hits him dead center in the chest. Sam is speechless. He cannot say nor do anything. He's just frozen. The knife drops to the floor as John stares amazed at the gunshot wound in his chest. Moments later, he too falls to the floor, unseeing eyes looking at Sam's curled up snd distraught form.

He soon dies from his injuries. That should be it, right? The end? No. Sam wishes it was, but nothing ever worked out in his favor. Using Dean's distraction against him again, Jesse picks up the knife and charges at him. This time, Dean isn't so quick. The teenager tackles him, flinging the gun out of reach. The two of them fight for control over the blade as Sam watches.

Now is his chance! He can't just around and do nothing as his boyfriend fights his brother! And John...oh God. He tried to end it before it got worse, except he unintentionally made it so. Sam musters up enough courage to fight back. He gets up; slowly inching his way to the gun as the fight between Dean and Jesse intensifies. Just as he picks up the gun, he sees his brother subdue his boyfriend. He's behind him with the knife to his throat.

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy..." Dean sighs. His bottom lip is split from Jesse punching him. "What're you doin playing with a big boy's toy?"

"Shut up!" Sam cries. "You shut up! You--You let him go. Let him go, Dean!"

"Can't do that. I just can't. You know that."

The boy begins to plead with his attacker. "Please...I'll do anything. I'll do anything.. just let him go."

Dean's eyebrow quirks upwards in thought. "Anything, you say?"

There's no going back.

"Anything..."

The dark grin on Dean's face sends chills down the boy's spine. "Okay. Put the gun down first, then kick it over to me."

Red flags wave about in his head. There's always something more with Dean. So much more than meets the eye. A plan. A plot. But Sam thinks that it will be worth it if he can potentially save Jesse. Against his better judgment, he slowly lowers the gun as tears free fall down his face. Is it a crime to want nothing but peace? To live in a world where he doesn't fear for the lives of his loved ones?

Sam can't think of anything else but saving his boyfriend's life. He drops the gun to the floor before doing as Dean said, and kicks it iver to him. Watching Dean's grin get wider sets off a new alarm in his mind. Something is definitely not right here. The game is still being played, and despite what Dean previously said, Sam is in fact involved.

Horrified, the boy tries to stop the inevitable. "Dean, NO!"

But it's too late.

Dean wastes no time as he quickly drags the blade across Jesse's neck.

It's over.

* * *

He's trapped inside of his mind at this moment. Regretfully replaying every single mistake he made to get up to this point. At this moment in time, Sam is in his deceased father's car. In the passenger seat...with Dean in the driver's seat. In a sense, he's been kidnapped, but he didn't put up much of a fight anyways. He was too overcome with grief to resist him.

Sam's not aware of where they are, but he figures that they're getting away from Kansas, if they're not already out of there. The road ahead is empty, and they're surrounded by large cornfields. Perfect setting for a horror movie. The radio is playing soft rock; Dean apparently knows the song because he's singing along to it. 

When Sam turns his head to the left slightly, he spots the gun in the man's lap. It's just sitting there. Soon, Dean catches him staring; he smiles at him while also turning down the music. Apparently, he wants to have a conversation. Sam wants anything but that. He'd rather jump out of this moving vehicle than look at his smoking hot murdering brother in the eye and talk to him. He's still quite pissed and conflicted.

"I can sing, I know." Dean boasts. "It's a gift."

Sam stares at the road. "Where are we going?"

"Gonna meet up with an old friend. Lie low for a bit. He can help out. After that, it's smooth sailing. We'll officially be in the clear, and finally be together again. I've missed you so much, Sammy. Everything about you. Your touch, your smile, your intelligence. I love you, Sam--"

"I hate you."

There it is. He said it again. This makes Dean frown. "What? What did you say?"

"I said I hate you."

Dean laughs, but it's obvious that he's not finding this funny. "Stop joking around, Sammy. It's getting a little old."

"Do you have any idea about how I'm feeling right now? You killed our father. You killed Jesse...You tricked me. You don't love me. This...this isn't healthy. You're obsessed with me. You've hurt me isn't so many ways, and yet I feel conflicted. I hate you, but that's not all. I just wish we could go back to the way we used to be. So there's only one thing to do..."

"What? What're you talking about?"

"We have to die. See you in Hell."

Without warning, Sam surges over to Dean. He grabs the steering wheel tightly, yanking it to the right. In that same instance, Dean slams his foot on the break. It doesn't matter how hard he tries because the car swerves. All at once, the car begins to pivot, and flips over all together down the road in vicious spirals. Something out of a race car crash.

He shuts his eyes.

* * *

_"Hey, Dean?"_

_"Hmm?"_

_"How do you know if you...if you like someone? Like, **like** them."_

_"Do you like someone at school, Sammy?"_

_"No...not exactly..."_

_"Oh. Then who?"_

_"Just...just some dumb guy that's all. It's not really important. Just drop it."_

_"Hahaha. Come on! We tell each other everything! Who's the guy I'm gonna have to beat up?"_

_"No one. Heh, let's just forget I ever said anything. It won't work out anyway. Wouldn't be good for any of us."_

_"Well...okay. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. Bitch."_

_"Jerk."_

Upon gaining consciousness, Sam comes to realize a majority of things. The first is that his head fucking hurts. Like really bad. Secondly, he's upside-down. Well, he  _and_ Dean both. The memories of how he had gotten into this position soon come to light. The third and last thing is that Dean is still unconscious. Sam struggles with the seatbelt that's securing him.

He unclasps the belt, letting gravity take over. Now his head hurts more. Not the best choice. Once free, he takes Dean's gun; the man didn't have his seatbelt on. Sam notices from the blood trickling down the side of his face that he hit his head pretty good. His hand is also scarred from the glass presumably. After grabbing the fire arm, he tries opening the door on his side.

When it doesn't budge, he tries again. Only this time he kicks it open with his good leg; the left leg is bruised, nearly broken. As Sam begins to crawl out of the car, he hears Dean groan. Part of him wants to help, but the other part wants to leave him to die. So, Sam decides that it's best if he does indeed leave him to rot. However, just as he begins hobbling down the road, Dean yells his name.

Over and over again.

Repeatedly.

But Sam keeps walking. He can't go back...no matter how much he wants to. He's torn between the Dean he once knew and the monster in that car. He's painfully aware that his thought process is flawed--maybe even toxic--but it's how he feels. In his mind, Sam is screaming. Go back for Dean, or kill him? There is no in between now. It's kill or be taken against his will forever. But he just keeps limping.

Nonetheless, Dean also manages to free himself from the metal death trap. Sam reluctantly turns around, watching his brother stand tall; his forehead his bleeding, and he has a few scratches across his nose and cheeks. Sam blames himself for damaging Dean's handsome face like that. He may be a psychopath, but he's still a good looking man. Unconsciously, Sam feebly raises the gun even though they are yards apart.

"Stop...Stop running from me..." He hears Dean huff, spitting out blood from his mouth.

"I'm done running." Sam's voice is hoarse and his eyes are bloodshot from crying. "I'm done running..."

Dean moves forward, unafraid of the gun. "Put the gun down."

"Don't come any closer."

"Or what?" He scoffs as he keeps going. Halfway there now.

"Or--Or I'll shoot you."

Closer.

"We both know you're not gonna shoot me."

"Stop moving!"

Closer.

"Just put the gun down."

"You...you son of a bitch..."

It's not long until Dean comes to stand in front of Sam, gun still aimed at his head. The boy's hand starts shaking from his nerves. Meanwhile, Dean is expressionless.

"Pull the trigger. If you want me dead so much, pull the trigger." Sam, however, hesitates. This prompts Dean to take over. He grabs the barrel of the gun, pressing it to his head. "There. I made it easy for you. You won't miss. Pull the trigger, Sammy."

This is crazy.

"You can do it."

Absolutely crazy.

"Come on, Sam. Do it."

Now he knows. He knows that he--

"PULL THE FUCKING TRIGGER!"

In an instant, it stops. Everything stops. Sam is weak. He cannot continue this any longer. He lowers that he gun, eventually dropping it on the ground. He can't kill Dean, just like he couldn't do it the year prior. Sam honestly doesn't have it in him to kill the one who helped provide for him. The one who took risks just to see if he was alright. Dean soon closes the distance between them. He tilts Sam's chin just right and gives him an open mouthed kiss.

Sam can tell that he catches his brother off guard when he reciprocates the action; his own tongue moves around in his mouth. The boy tastes the coppery flavor if blood, but pays it no mind. He's in his own world with his brother and fractured psyche. Dean gently brackets Sam's face with his hands, caressing his cheeks.

The young man hates his older brother, but at the very same time, a loves him with every fiber of his being. In all honesty, Sam never truly stopped loving Dean. He only pushed it down because he thought it was normal to do so. He's afraid of the future, but if Dean's gonna be with him the entire time, then it's gonna be worth while.

It's all gonna be okay.

* * *

**Some Time Later...**

Rick sighs softly as he jumps out of his big rig. It's not easy being a trucker. He's constantly on the move, and he rarely ever sees Emma and the kids, but the money's good. However, a man's got needs and women don't exactly hitchhike on the side of the highway like the movies show. Hell, he'd even go for a nice looking boy right now. He doesn't discriminate. What Emma doesn't know won't hurt her.

The trucker heads straight for the restroom on the side of the diner. He's gotta take a piss, and he's hoping that maybe he'll find a guy in there that's not afraid to put their mouth in his cock. After getting inside, Rick frowns; there's no one in here. So much for getting a blowjob. He unzips his pants and unloads his bladder onto the urinal, but as he does, someone enters.

His attention is drawn towards the door. In steps a young man; a boy. Just Rick's type too. Slim. Slightly smaller than himself. Has a full head of beautiful, brown hair. His clothes--Jesus Christ! It should be a crime to wear shorts that fucking small. They leave absolutely nothing to the imagination whatsoever. He's a hot piece of ass. Rick wouldn't mind fucking him tonight.

The boy spots him and winks, but goes to the sink. Rick doesn't take his eyes off him as he finishes, flushing the device. The kid only looks in the mirrors, doing something to his hair. The man, feeling bold, comes up behind him, crotch pressing up against his ass as he starts washing his hands. They look at each other in the mirror; the boy grins, and reveals to Rick that he's got pretty little dimples.

"Sam." The boy says. "I'm Sam."

"Name's Rick. What's a cute little thing like you doing here by yourself at night? There's big bag men out there." Rick turns off the faucet, but stays where he is.

"Don't worry about me, Hon. I can take care of myself."

"You're just so pretty. Some men might get the wrong idea."

"Why are you so concerned about me?" Sam manages to turn around, still pinned against the counter. "Are you one of those men?"

"That depends: Do you want me to be?"

It happens so fast that Rick starts to think that he's dreaming. Sam launches himself on him, launching attacking his in a passionate kiss. It's searing hot, and the blood automatically goes down to his cock. To be able to fuck him right here in the bathroom of a seedy truck stop is risky, but fucking hot at the same time.

Rick grips Sam's ass right before he lifts him up onto the sink. The boy curls his legs around the other's waist, moaning like a whore as Rick nibbles and bites at his neck. But Sam isn't satisfied with just that. He pulls the man's face back your his, letting their tongues dance wildly together. At first, everything is okay. But then it gets bad.

Sam starts getting rough and wild with him, pulling on his shirt and clawing his back. However, it all goes downhill when he feels Sam's teeth pin down his tongue. Rick tries to pull away, but the boy bites harder. Soon, the pain becomes unbearable. It all comes to a stop when Sam successfully rips the trucker's own tongue from his throat. He stumbles back, clutching his mouth as the door opens again.

* * *

Sam hops off the sink as Dean walks in, locking the door behind him. He nonchalantly spits out that pervert's tongue onto his squirming body. Motherfucker. As if he'd have sex with that guy. No, he was just for fun. Sam briefly splashes some water on his face, wiping away the blood. Though more blood is only gonna get on him soon.

"Nice work." Dean hums in approval. He takes out his knife. "Pretty brutal. Not what I would have done, but whatever." He holds the blade out to the boy expectantly. "Care to do the honors? He was your pick after all."

Yeah. Sam doesn't think twice on it. The stoic look on his face would be unsettling to anyone who ever knew him. He used to be happy-go-lucky; cheerful. It's way different now. After taking the knife away from Dean, Sam straddles Rick's whimpering form. He holds the object with both hands before bringing it down hard. The first hit pierces the skin and into Rick's chest.

And the second.

And the third.

And the thirteenth.

After the twentieth stab, Rick dies. It's not much of a loss really. Sam's sure that no one cared that much about him. Poor guy. Screw him...and screw Dean for grooming his little brother into becoming a serial killer just like him.

He stands up, clothes stained in blood. Dean kisses his forehead; it's warm. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

Sam gazes back at the man he killed before grinning wide, teeth bright.

"I don't feel a thing."

* * *

**_Who is the betrayer?_ **

**_Who's the killer in the crowd?_ **

**_The one who creeps in corridors, and doesn't make a sound..._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's THAT for an ending!? I kinda like that one. What about you? ;)


End file.
